The Fallen
by alphades
Summary: After the death of Allison Argent, the pack is forced to cope with life without her. That is until the day Allison suddenly appears in Lydia's bedroom, fingernails embedded with dirt and no recollection of how she had gotten there. For the pack, Allison's return should be a dream come true. Only problem? She's a ghost, and her time back is limited. 3b. Major Character Death.
1. Prologue

**The Fallen**

"Prologue"

* * *

_Feeling my way through the darkness_

_Guided by a beating heart_

_I can't tell where the journey will end_

_But I know where to start_

* * *

The cemetery is silent, aside from the light squawks of crows flying overhead. The grass is glistening from the rain fall the night before.

There is a fresh pile of dirt, in front of a newly planted tombstone.

_Allison Argent_

_1997 - 2014_

_"Nous Protégeons Ceux_

_Qui Ne Peuvent Pas_

_Se Protéger Eux Mémes"_

As a black crow perches itself atop the tombstone, a white rose grows from out the dirt.

Below, in a satin filled coffin, chocolate brown eyes burst open, as a strangled gasp escapes the dry lips of a dead girl.

And miles away, in a darkened bedroom, Lydia Martin shoots up in her bed, her body covered in sweat as she breathes out a single word.

"_Allison_."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Teen Wolf", nor do I profit in this story other than the satisfaction of becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these pre-written characters. All belong to the creator Jeff Davis and various copyright holders!

**A/N: **Hello everyone! It's me again. Let me just start by saying, I know this was short, but it's simply the prologue the next chapter will be longer! Anyways, this story is going to be hard to write seeing as I never in a million years thought I would be writing or reading a _Ghost!Allison_ fanfic, and I wish so badly that it was Canon for Season 4. However, I'm really excited to get this out to you guys! I hope you enjoyed this prologue and I can't wait to start this journey with you. Again, I just want to say that as we know, nothing can ever hold 100% to the show when it comes to fanfiction so I do ask that you bare with me in terms of my writing style towards it, along with my ships and ideas when reviewing. I understand everyone has their own opinions, and I'm open to them, but keep in mind we don't all share the same ideas/ships/theories, and that this is my version, so please respect that. That being said, please review! Although this is fan fiction, I am an aspiring writer. Therefore, your feedback is not only appreciated but very helpful to me! I'd love to hear what you guys think! As always, thank you for reading, and I will see you all again very soon! x


	2. The Funeral

**The Fallen**

Chapter 1a

"The Funeral"

* * *

_Really too late to call, __So we wait for morning_

_To wake you is all we got._

_To know me as hardly golden, Is to know me all wrong,_

_They warn._

* * *

It's _raining_. Little drops of water colliding against the glass of the windshield in a light rhythm. The sky is a dark shade of grey, and thunder can be heard rumbling behind the black clouds hanging over Beacon Hills. To call it a "_gloomy_ day" would be the biggest understatement in history. Because it wasn't just any other rainy day. It wasn't just any other storm occurring in the sky above. No, it was the day of Allison Argent's funeral. And for the 3 kids sitting in the beat up blue Jeep, parked at the top of the hill of Beacon Hills cemetery, to define today as anything other then _unbearable_, was simply just false in context. Because one of their best friend's was dead. One of the strongest people they knew, was lying still in a coffin down the hill. One of the people they'd loved most, had fallen. And the sky was crying. This storm, was only a personification of the emotions they held within them. _Gloomy_ just didn't cut it. And as the roaring engine of the jeep finally shut off, they all felt the weight of the true meaning of the day, collapse on their shoulders._ Unbearable_. Yeah, that seemed about right.

Stiles' fingers slowly twine around the steering wheel, gripping tightly as he peers ahead of him. His red rimmed eyes, catching blurs of black as people dressed in funeral attire, hidden by their matching umbrellas, walk past the front of his jeep to get down the hill. The sleeves of his suit lift slightly up on his arms, and he feels the fabric brush against the hair on his arms. It was the only suit he'd owned. It had been his dad's. The last time either of them had worn a suit, it had been under the same circumstances. A funeral. His mother's. He could feel the irony of it all sitting in the pit of his stomach. It was enough to make him feel as though he wanted to get sick and cry all at the same time. Losing someone, is hard enough. However, feeling to blame for that loss, provides an entirely different kind of pain. It's a pain that eats away at you, demanding to be felt. An itching beneath your skin. A voice inside your head, confirming you're to blame when you forget to. It's hell. However, that's something Stiles is all to familiar with. And it's not until he feels another hand prying his fingers off of the steering wheel, that he's pulled out of the darkness in his mind, and the guilt is silenced long enough for him to regain focus on reality. Blinking wildly, he sucks in a sharp breath, and he turns to his side to meet the tear filled eyes of his best friend.

Scott is quiet, his eyes lowering when Stiles finally turns to him. When he finally manages to pry the rest of Stiles' fingers off the wheel, his hands drop once more into his lap and he shifts his body so that his head is resting back on the cold, sweaty window. He doesn't even feel the tears swelling in his eyes. He's numb. The last time he'd worn a suit, was when he'd gone to the Winter Formal. Where he'd first told Allison that he loved her. And although he doesn't wear the same suit today, the memory of his last experience in one, was enough to make him feel suffocated. His fingers lift to his collar, pulling at it slightly. He doesn't know what to say or do. He's supposed to. He's the alpha. He's supposed to be strong, and prepared to be the shoulder everyone leans on. He's supposed to hold the tears back, stand tall, and come up with a plan for a future without Allison. But the honesty of the situation, is that Scott can't be strong today. Today, he is confirming what he's been trying to deny for so long. Allison is gone. And no matter how hard he's tried to be his own anchor, to pull himself out of this black hole that's swallowing his very being, he _can't_. Because he couldn't save her. Because she'd said she still loved him, and now he'll never have a chance to say it back. Because when she took her final breath, and left the land of the living, she took a part of him with her. And so, asking him to be strong, is frankly asking of too much. Eventually, he'll move. Eventually, he'll say something. Eventually, he'll step out of his best friend's jeep, walk down that hill, and say goodbye to the first girl he'd every truly loved. Eventually. When he's ready. When the tears stop blurring his vision.

"I can't," Lydia is the first one to say what they're all feeling. Her voice comes out no louder than a rasped whisper, from her shaking red painted lips. She's dressed in a long sleeved, fit and flare black dress, that stops just above her knees. She says to herself that she's wearing black because it's her best friend's favorite color. That it's not for a funeral, but for a celebration of life. However, '_is_ her best friend's favorite color' turns into '_was_ her best friend's favorite color', and then '_celebration_' begins to sound like the stupidest description of the event she's attending, because how can anyone celebrate losing their _best friend_? Their other half. Their sister. The only person they've ever opened up to? She's left wondering how anyone goes on, after losing someone they loved. How they can wake up and remember how to breathe, with the aching in their chest. How? Why? Questions that can never be answered. Allison was supposed to be here to tell Lydia everything would be alright. They were supposed to be shopping for prom dresses, 3 months early, because they were overcome with the excitement of the fact that they were finally juniors, and allowed to go. They were supposed to be talking about how Allison's first time with Issac went, and then Lydia would hide her face as she admitted that somehow Stiles Stilinski's 10 year plan was actually beginning to work on her. But instead, they would do none of these things._ They_ wouldn't even be a _they_ anymore. It was just Lydia. And she wasn't strong like Allison. She can't put on a brave face to convince herself and others that she's fine. That she can take care of herself. Because she can't. And with each minute passing as she sits in the backseat of Stiles' jeep, listening to the storm outside the assemble of metal and glass that is separating the 3 of them from the outside world, it became more clear to her. "I can't do this." she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "I can't go out there." Her eyes flutter open, and she catches sight of the polish she'd absentmindedly chipped off of her nails while sitting. She turns her head to look out the window, her eyes glazed over. "This is all just," her shoulders lift. "..too much."

Neither of the boys turn in their seats to look back at her. They don't have to, for her to know that they'd heard her. They'd heard and felt every word that left her lips. It was too much._ Too much_ grief. _Too much_ pain. _Too much_ anger. _Too much_ left unsaid. _Too much_ for any teenagers to handle all on their own. Issac had already left town. Everything being "_Too much_", the exact reason nobody blamed him for not showing up today. They'd all gotten his text. He'd apologized for not making an appearance, the words "too much" being quoted with his reasoning. Residing in France, also contributed. However, they all new the former was likely to have contributed more. So, yes, they all felt it. And in that moment, it took everything in Stiles for him to not turn the key in the ignition, put his jeep in reverse, and speed away without a second glance. But they had to do it. They had to step out into the rain, and say goodbye to their fallen pack member. A girl, who had made a mark in all of their lives. A girl, who was so much more than her end. A girl who deserved, for her best friends to wear the strength she'd held her entire life, and give her a proper goodbye. A salute, to a warrior.

Stiles flicks his eyes up to look at her through the rearview mirror. She's crying now, her lips tucked in and the shadows of the raindrops running down his car window are reflecting on her face. "Lydia..." he calls her name quietly, and she releases her tucked lips, letting out a sob. "Hey," He unbuckles his seat belt, this time turning and reaching his arm back to place a comforting hand on her knee. "Look at me, right at me." He ducks his head slightly, and she snaps her eyes in his direction. "We can do this." Lydia begins to protest, but he's quick to cut her short. "I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. It's not going to be easy. It's going to be _hard_. And it's going to be one of the most painful things we've ever had to face, but we can do this." He pauses, craning his head back to look at Scott, who has yet to move. "Hey! You." Stiles takes his free hand, slapping it onto Scott's shoulder. The young Alpha lifts his head off the window, letting out what sounds to be a whimper. "_We_ can do this." This time it sounds more like a question than a statement, but Stiles still squeezes Scott's shoulder a bit tighter to try and hide his slight doubt. "We _need_ to," Lydia lifts her chin upward, wiping at her tear stained cheeks. Scott tilts his head slightly in Stiles' direction. "For _Allison_." he looks between the pair, who have now tensed under the mention of her name. "_Alright_?" Stiles' voice cracks, and he ignores the twinge of pain that enters his chest. The two nod numbly, and he releases them both. "Alright."

He turns back in his seat, facing foreword. He has to clear his throat, for the fear his voice will be lost. "Uh, Lyds, there should be an umbrella by your feet.." He glances at Scott. "You can use it, Scott and I will just.. deal?" He raises his eyebrows at Scott to confirm that's the plan, and Scott doesn't look at him, but manages to give him a short nod. Lydia leans down, picking up the umbrella and digging her nails into the rubber of the handle. "Got it?" He asks, and she gives him a close lipped smile. "Okay." He swallows the lump formed in his throat, before pushing his door open. The rain outside, instantly becomes louder, and he almost slams the door back shut to regain the comfort of the rain being muffled. Instead, he lets his feet sink into the damp grass, stretching, then he turns back and pulls the front seat up so Lydia can step out.

She hands him the umbrella, and he doesn't hesitate to open it before she takes his outstretched hand, hopping out of the jeep, and stumbling into his chest. He wraps his arm around her to stable her, expecting for her to leave his side once she's standing up straight. But she doesn't. She only holds onto him tighter, looking down the hill ahead of them. Stiles, confused, looks back through the open door of the jeep at Scott, who is staring back at them, his hand still on his door. His best friend holds sad eyes as he watches them. Scott held onto Allison that very same way the day she'd confided in him about her Aunt's funeral in the empty classroom. Knowing he can no longer do that forces him to look away, breaking he and Stiles' gaze, and shutting the door behind him. Stiles takes this as their cue to walk down the hill.

Scott meets Stiles and Lydia in front of Stiles' jeep, and the three stare down at the group of people down ahead, gathering around a silver coffin. It's now that they realize, stepping out of the car was the easy part. Actually walking down the hill,..that was the hard part.

"...Ready?" Stiles manages to get out now causing his knuckles to go white by how tightly he's holding onto the umbrella above Lydia's head.

"Nope." Lydia breathes, her chest rising and falling roughly with each inhale.

"Never." Scott's lips barely move as he answers, staring blankly at the funeral setting in front of him.

"...Yeah. Me neither." Stiles nods, and then with his free hand, clasps Lydia's hand in his own. She quickly intertwines their fingers, and with her other hand grabs Scott's hand. His hands were shaking, but stop once he feels Lydia's palm in his own.

Scott looks down at their hands, and then up at both Stiles and Lydia, who are now looking at him expectantly. He hesitates, but nods and then faces forward as they all begin their walk down the hill. The rain drops hit against Scott and Stiles roughly, quick to soak their suits, and hair. The umbrella doesn't do much for Lydia, due to the wind blowing most of the raindrops below the umbrella's shield. None of them seem to care though, as they concentrate on not sliding down the wet grass of the hill. Although the sky is rumbling above them, and the rain showers are hissing as they meet the earth, the walk down the hill is silent to the three. It almost feels as if they're walking in slow motion. There's a few times Lydia stops in her tracks to remind herself to breathe while the boys wait understandingly, and Scott is forced to use his werewolf reflexes to stop the three from falling, but all the same they make it down the hill without collapsing in grief. And to them, that says more than not.

Their parents had agreed to meet them at the burial site, after they'd requested to drive with Stiles from the funeral home. As promised, they'd met them at the bottom of the hill. Scott instantly let go of Lydia's hand, hugging his mother. Melissa McCall held onto her son, whispering quiet words into his ear. Lydia followed suit, letting go of Stiles and walking into the middle of a sandwiched hug from her parents. Stiles closed his umbrella, figuring it no longer held purpose seeing as they all were soaked, and allowed his father's arms to wrap around him. It was a moment between all four parents and their kids. It was brief, for the fear of being a bit like a stab in the heart to Chris Argent, who was watching on from where he stood in front of the coffin. And soon after the moment was over, the group of teens and adults, gathered with every one else, taking their respected spots in front. Chris gave them all a teary smile, before bowing his head as the pastor began to speak.

Everything said about Allison was general statements, typically said at a burial. Yes, she was a daughter. Yes, she was a friend. Yes, she was gone too soon. But it wasn't mentioned that she was a hero. That she died, saving a friend. That it was her final arrow, that killed an Oni. It wasn't mentioned that she was good at bowling, loved to dance, and hated photography, even though she was good at that as well. Nobody had mentioned that she'd fallen in love with a werewolf named Scott McCall, or had a best friend named Lydia Martin who was a banshee, or another friend named Stiles Stilinski who had been possessed by a Japanese spirit. Nor was it mentioned that she could kick a werewolf's ass in a fight if she genuinely needed to, or that she would stay up all night making sure that her friends and family were protected. Allison was being sent off, without almost all of her story being told. And although half of her story was made up of things that could not be shared with the human public, it still felt wrong. _Unjustified_, even. So when the pastor closed his bible, and backed away, preparing for the coffin to be lowered into the ground, Allison's friends spoke up.

"Stop!" All three of them said, synchronized.

Everyone turned to them, and it was in that moment that the group of teens realized they'd spoken aloud. They looked back and forth from one another, mouths agape.

"Well?" Chris Argent took a step foreword.

"We, uh.." Lydia blinked. "_I_" she corrected, feeling she couldn't speak for everyone. "I would like to say something, to Allison."

Chris' face relaxed.

"I would like to as well." Stiles pointed to himself, awkwardly.

"As would I." Scott lifted his head, catching his mother's sad smile.

"Right," Chris nodded slowly, "Go on." He took a few step backwards as the three teens stepped forward, looking down at the coffin.

"Uhm..." Stiles was the one to start. Scott and Lydia were thankful for that. "Allison," he stopped, her name in his mouth causing the knots in his stomach to grow. "I remember, when you first came to Beacon Hills. You were this, beautiful, uh..shy, cool girl who popped into my Econ class one morning. I remember seeing you in the hallway on your first day and thinking _man that girl must be really brave to start all over sophomore year, I could never be that brave_. And uh, I didn't really see much of you after that first day. Then the next thing I know.. you're going out with my best friend. And we finally got to know each other. You were just as brave, and cool as I figured you'd be. I remember you were always the one who offered to invite me to things. Yano, like bowling night, parties,..all that popular crowd stuff that nobody ever thought to invite me to. Even my best friend would forget sometimes, but you..you would always remember. I never got to say thank you, for that. So, I want to say thank you today. I know you can't answer back, but I know you can hear it. Wherever you are. We never were that close until this year, but I'm grateful for the year we did have. You became one of my best friends. You saved my ass more times than I can count. And uh,.." He felt that burning sensation in his nose again but this time he didn't bother to hold back the tears. "And, I'm just sorry I couldn't save you." he nodded to himself, as a tear fell off his chin. "I'll miss you." he wiped at his face, sniffling. By this point Lydia was crying again, Scott had his eyes closed. The rain, causing his hair to stick to his face. Stiles walked over to the coffin, bending down and whispering. "I'll take care of them...I _promise_." He patted the coffin lightly, and then stood once more, walking over to stand by his father.

Scott was next, feeling Lydia needed more time to regain her composure. He opened his eyes, his heart rate picking up it's pace. "Allison," he began and he felt like he'd been hit by a truck. "I.." he closed his lips, breathing. "I have so many memories of you, that I can't get out of my head. It's like a movie that's on repeat. But it's okay, because I don't mind remembering. Like, giving you my pen, on the first day. Or, seeing you smiling at me in the hallway. Or our first kiss, after my game. The first time... The first time you said you loved me." He sucked in a watery breath. "The last." he was thankful for the rain hiding the tears on his cheeks. He wished he could say the same for his voice. "I remember that time we snuck out of school to celebrate your birthday, because you were scared people would make fun of you for being a 17 year old sophomore. You'd said it was a perfect day. I'd never seen you so happy." He laughed lightly at this, but it was pained. "I want you to know, that you were _my_ first love. That without you, I wouldn't be who I am today. I'm a better person, because of you. A better son. A better friend. A better leader. You changed my life for the better. Even when we weren't together, you always stood by my side. And I will forever be thankful for that. I am so sorry... I'm so sorry that I didn't protect you." There was now no way to hide his cries, as his voice made it evident. "Allison, I will always love you." He cried. "...Because I love you.. remember?" He chewed at his bottom lip and then he turned around, meeting his mother halfway as she hugged him for the 3rd time that day.

Listening to Scott and Stiles' speeches had given Lydia enough time to cry, and to think of what she would say. How she would say goodbye to her best friend. She'd come to the conclusion there was no right answer. There was no right way to say goodbye. Because saying goodbye to Allison wasn't right. "I'm not going to say goodbye," she spoke, folding her hands together. "I'm going to say, see you later. Because a _warrior_... like yourself, never truly dies." she shrugged, tears filled in her eyes. "I know you, Alli...You never wanted to be weak. And goodbye, is for the weak. Losing hope, is for the weak. You were not weak. You were my best friend. My sister. And you died, on your way to save me. You were..." Lydia looked to Chris, who was making sure she stuck to the story. "You were killed, and it had happened so fast. And I never got to say that I love you. That you were the greatest friend anyone could ever come to know. You were loyal, you were helpful, you were a light in the dark. Allison Argent, you were what I aspired to be. _Strong_. And I wish I would have appreciated those small moments we'd had in the car bickering, or those nights we'd stay up late gossiping when we were supposed to be studying. All those goofy texts, and times at the mall trying on outfit after outfit. I had focused more on boys, and prom and all of those trivial things, when now all I'd want is to have you back." Lydia looked down at her hands, chipping away at the remaining nail polish. "You were my other half. I need you, Ally." She cried. "But, I will be okay. For the both of us. Because I know you can no longer be strong for me." She nods. "So..See you later, Ally A. I hope I make you proud."

When Lydia turned, it was not her parents who met her, but Scott and Stiles. The two opened their arms and it didn't take long for the three to stand in a group hug, crying. Chris, no longer able to hold back his own tears, walked over and wrapped his arms around the 3 teens. They adjusted so he could now be apart of the hug. It lasted for about 10 minutes, everyone else respectfully waiting. When they finally pulled apart, and the rain continued to pour, they watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground, everything about Allison's death seeming to feel more concrete and final than any of them wanted to accept. The funeral was over. It was like the final chapter to their story. The battle was over, but it had come with a very important casualty. Nothing about it felt right. It had been too soon. It wasn't her time to go. Allison wasn't the type to die. She was meant to live. But with each shovel of dirt thrown over her coffin, now under ground, the farther from the truth that seemed to be. She was gone.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Teen Wolf", nor do I profit in this story other than the satisfaction of becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these pre-written characters. All belong to the creator Jeff Davis and various copyright holders!

**A/N: **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I just wanted to write the funeral scene. Allison won't be appearing until a bit later. I really want to focus on the packs grief. I also have to bring Malia in seeing as she was in the 3b finale, and I feel she might help somewhat in where i'm going with this. As always, thanks for reading! Please review! x


	3. Seance

**The Fallen**

Chapter 1b

"Séance"

* * *

_Calling your name in the midnight hour_

_ Reaching for you from the endless dream_

_ So many miles between us now_

_ But you are always here with me_

* * *

It hadn't been any bodies idea that the Stilinski house be used for a pack sleepover after the day's events. Yet, somehow, like most things did, it just happened. The Sherriff didn't complain. He'd known they'd needed to finish grieving and the only way to do that was together. Although he'd been a bit surprised they hadn't chosen the McCall house to reside at. Stiles had informed him that Scott didn't want to go home, for the fear he might lock himself in his room and never come out again. Which, again, the sheriff was sad to say he understood. For a group of teenage kids, they'd been through more then he'd ever experienced, and that was including the fact that he'd lost his wife a few years ago. So, seeing them all herd into his house, didn't bother him. In fact, it made a sad smile grow on his face at the fact that they'd had each other. At times like these, that was all they needed.

"Looks like you kids got everything covered," Sheriff motioned to the pile of blankets and pillows that had landed on the living room floors, just In front of their beat up television and unused fireplace. "I'll just be upstairs in my room if you need anything." He informed.

Stiles turned to his father, a look on his face that neither of them really could comprehend. Still, somehow they understood it's hidden meaning, and Stiles gave his father a short nod. "Thanks, dad."

His dad waved him off, and then pointed over his shoulder. "There's money on the counter, if you guys wanted to order some food. Lock up before you go to bed and uh," he paused. "I'll see you all in the morning." With that, the Sheriff had felt he'd done his job, and turned to go upstairs before anyone could say or ask, anything else. Fact was, he was tired, and the weight of the events that had taken place over the last few months was sitting heavy on his shoulders. The worst part was, Stiles could see it. He could see his dad wearing down. And a part of him wished he'd never told his dad about what was going on in their dark world. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be better off. But he Stiles didn't have time to think about that. Not now, when his entire group of friends were sitting around in his living room, with glum faces and broken hearts. He understood why they'd needed him to host the comfort gathering. He looked to be the only one not slipping into a com-aboard of full on depression. Contrary to their beliefs, he was, he had just always been better at hiding his emotions. They said it made him strong, but with the thoughts roaming in his head, he knew he was anything but strong. Again, something he couldn't worry about.

Hitting out the lumps in the pillow he'd gripped in his hand, he let it fall on top of one of the blankets that sooner or later someone would occupy, and ran a calloused hand over his face. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep until the pain stopped feeling like pain and just turned into numbness. Because that he could bare. But standing there, in the middle of his living room, preparing a bunch of makeshift beds so that he and his friends could all pretend to watch a movie when really they'd all be lost in their own thoughts. was something he could not bare. Because he knew the thoughts were about Allison. and thoughts about Allison reminded him how if it weren't for him she wouldn't be dead. And with that guilt came the nausea, and the headaches, and the need to scream at the top of his lungs. All of which he could not do. Not ever. Not when Scott, or Malia, or any other of his pack members would hear his cries, and finally see how weak he truly was. No, no, that he definitely couldn't bare. So, instead he decided to clear his throat, and be the leader Scott didn't have the strength to be at the current moment in time. You're welcome, buddy.

"Alright, uhm," he scratched the back of his neck. "Does anybody need anything? Clothes? Food?.." It was stupid to ask the one question that everyone knew the answer to. What they all needed was Allison, but they all knew that wasn't going to happen. So, he felt it was better to ask then to not. Still he was greeted with silence, and he almost felt the urge to shout at everyone. Not because they weren't speaking, but just because he really just needed to let out a shout.

His red rimmed eyes flicked from each person in the room. All of them looking emotionally and physically exhausted from the days events. He could still feel what was the result of salty tears pouring from his eyes against the back of his honey dipped orbs. Swallowing, he ran a hand under his nose, sniffling to keep himself busy. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he finally gave up.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna get out of this suit," he began to pull at his tie. The fabric around his neck making him feel suffocated. "I'll be right back." He turned, prepared to walk upstairs and take the lack of company to wallow in sadness for just a brief moment. Because truth be told he wanted to collapse beneath his emotions. He felt if the night continued on as it was, he just might fall victim to that.

He stalked up the stairs, gripping onto the railing to stop himself from falling over. Pain and sadness are two very complicated things. You don't realize how much they're affected your physical body until you find yourself in situations where it hurts to move. Walking up the stairs hurt. His body ached. And maybe it was because he just had a Japanese dark spirit regurgitated out of him a few weeks ago. And maybe it was because crying for the most part of the day took a toll on the 17 year old boy. Either way, the cause of his bodies fatigue was what made the usual 2 second jog up his stairs, a 2 minute drag up his stairs. His feet dragged behind him as though he had chains around his ankles, whilst his body drooped like a dying tree.

Eventually he made it to the top of the stairs. Then to his room, and finally to his bed. He hadn't noticed he'd fell on his bed until his head was buried in his pillow. His body, tangled in the sheets. Sleep was a high possibility. He was sure if he wanted to, nobody would notice if he just drifted off into a slumber. But then the knocking happened. And he could feel a groan prepared to erupt from his body. He didn't move, simply letting out a muffled "what?" from his lips that were still planted in the indent in his pillow. He could hear his door open.

Whoever it was, they'd taken about 4 small steps into his room, and then fell silent and still. Frowning, he poked his head up, squinting in the dark. From the light outside the room he couldn't see much but the small glow surrounding the silhouette of a girl. A girl with strawberry blonde hair, that had frizzed a bit in the rain from earlier. Lydia. His lips curved slightly upward into a small smile, and he pushed himself up ward, his sheets twisting beneath him.

"It's alright, you can come in." He rubbed at his eyes, resting his arms on his now propped up knees. Lydia seemed hesitant, but eventually closed the door behind her, and walked further into his room. What she did next seemed almost elegant. The way she slipped out of her shoes, and released the clip from her hair restlessly. Her body moved slow and delicate. Almost as though she was thinking about each movement carefully. Then, she sat on the edge of his bed, pulling her legs up onto it moments after. She wasn't looking at him, just staring ahead. The darkness of the room enveloping their bodies. Stiles couldn't help but look at her, concerned. She looked so broken and fragile. He just wanted to wrap her up in his arms and protect her. He always felt the need to protect her. Even though she wasn't his, and probably never would be, he still cared about her deeply. That, he knew, would never change.

She parted her lips, her legs crossed on his bed, and her eyes finding a way to glisten through her tears as the moonlight hit them. "I couldn't sit down there any longer," she admitted. "It was just, too much. I could feel everything. Everyone's pain and sadness. Guilt. It was.." She shook her head, not being able to finish the sentence on her lips. "I just needed to be alone for a little while." Stiles found it ironic how she chose to come to his room, where he'd said he'd be, when she wanted to be alone. But, he didn't verbalize that thought. He thought it'd be best not to.

"Do you want to use my room for a sec? I can change in the bathroom..." He offered, even though he knew she most likely came to his room for another purpose. Lydia was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She knew he would be up in his room when she arrived, so she must have had something in mind when she made her way there.

Lydia shook her head numbly, her eyes not tearing away from the wall in front of them. "Okay..." Stiles swallowed, joining her in facing the wall ahead of them. The remains of the red strings hung up on his cork board rested limp on the pins that held them up. The memory of the past months flashed in his head and he winced, making a personal reminder to take the board down. It was most definitely time for a Spring cleaning. Even though Spring was about 4 months away. He would have to figure out another name for 'cleaning the remains from my month of possession'.

After about 3 minutes of silence, Stiles felt something brush against his hand. He blinked, not being able to see any thing in the darkness that surrounded his room. It was about another minute after that, when he got his eyes to focus, and he realized Lydia had taken hold of his hand in her own. A second later, and he found himself holding in a grunt of pain from how tightly she was squeezing his hand. This was not how he'd expected their first hand-hold to go, but he tried his best to enjoy it through the circumstances. Clearing his throat, he licked his lips before speaking.

"Um, Lydia?" The words came out hoarse, as though he'd lost his voice. He quickly turned his head away from the distraught girl, coughing into his fist to try and cover it up. By this point Lydia was already turning her head slowly towards him. It was almost creepy how slow she was turning to face him. But she still looked beautiful. And sad. So, very sad. There was a light behind her eyes that had gone out, and he could tell with each flip of her eyelids. He found himself lost in her eyes, upset that she seemed to be fading. He'd almost forgotten what he wanted to say to her, until he realized he'd left his mouth hanging open a bit and his tongue was growing dry. "...My hand, is kind of–throbbing." He blurted out, and instantly his eyes grew wide. That was going on the emasculative confessions list. "I mean, not that I can't take it, but, my body can't seem to handle much ever since... well, the Nogitsune."

Lydia said nothing. In fact, she didn't even let go. She just loosened her grip, and then sniffled. She had been crying. Stiles felt a bit frustrated he'd closed his blinds. The moonlight would have let him know she'd been crying a long time ago, and maybe he could have prevented her from crying too harshly. Besides, she looked beautiful when she cried, and he would have liked to see one thing that wasn't a casket with flowers and an arrow head on it in his head. He clasped his free hand over both he and Lydia's intertwined fingers, trying to reassure her. "Don't freak out over it. I was just letting you know. You sort of caught me off guard that's all. No big deal." He gave a weak smile.

This time, when she turned to him, she held a pained expression beneath a forced closed-lipped smile. It shot a pang of sadness to Stiles' chest to see her look this way. She suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I can still hear her," she closed her mouth, looking as though she wanted to stop talking. "Allison. Her voice keeps ringing in my ears. It won't stop. It's like a broken record." Lydia completed, her voice falling almost into a whisper. Stiles raised his eyebrows, the confession not what he'd expected from the girl sitting before him.

"You can–What does she say?" He tilted his head to the side, genuinely intrigued. It wasn't in anyone's nature to be surprised by the things Lydia heard anymore. That being said, hearing the voice of her dead best friend was one of the more surprising confessions. Lydia seemed hesitant, her eyebrows furrowing and her teeth digging into her bottom lip. He rubbed a circle on the top of her hand with his thumb. "It's okay, you can tell me." Lydia's eyes peeked up at him from beneath her eye damp eyelashes, and she looked back and forth between his honey eyes.

After what seemed like a 5 minute deliberation, and a serious staring contest, Lydia's shoulders relaxed a bit and she pulled her hand away from his own, pushing a strawberry blonde lock behind her ear. "She keeps yelling my name. Over, and over.–And when I call out for her, she just says 'help me'," Her nose was red and her cheeks were flushed and he could see the look of confusion on her own face as she recited what she'd been experiencing to him. Stiles couldn't help but remember when he'd called Scott that night he'd sleep walked out into the middle of the woods. He hadn't remembered ever speaking to Scott but apparently he'd kept repeating his name, and saying 'come find me' over and over. The similarities of the situations was enough to send a shudder climb it's way up his spine.

"–Lydia, how long has this been going on?" He asked, cracking his knuckle on his open palm in deep thought.

"A few days after Aiden died," Lydia's eyes lowered at the mention of the boys' name. "It's gotten more frequent with each day–louder." her tongue stuck out, moistening her lips. It was something she'd always done when she was nervous or scared. Stiles was sure if the lighting was better he'd even be able to see her pupils dilate a bit more as the fear of what could really be going on grew inside of her. Clearly, something had happened. Allison–or–Allison's voice, had to of said something else to inflict this confusion and terror inside of Lydia.

Apart of him knew this all could actually just be in Lydia's head. Her guilt of not being able to help and save Allison from dying. But he decided to play along. If not for the fact Lydia trusted him enough to come to him, but because of his own desire to understand what this could mean if it was in fact Allison trying to contact Lydia. If both of those weren't a good enough reason, he could excuse it as needing a distraction from the fact he'd just buried one of his pack members and if he focused any more on the memory of her death and the smell of the grass that he'd stood in to watch her get lowered into the ground lingering on his suit, he would have a full on break down.

"Why would Allison be trying to contact you for help if she's...dead?" Stiles asked carefully, not wanting to upset Lydia to the point she would regret coming to him.

Lydia lifted her shoulders in a shrug, at a loss. "I don't know, but I can't keep hearing her voice every day. It's going to drive me insane," Lydia placed a hand on her head, her voice growing watery. "It's like my mind is trying to play a trick on me or something." Stiles pushed himself off of his bed, hurrying over and flicking on the lights. He ignored the irritation that shot through his orbs in reaction to the sudden exposure and walked back over to Lydia just in time to catch her first sob escape her lips.

"Hey, shh," He crouched down in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. "Lydia, you're going to be okay, alright? We'll figure this out, don't worry." The way Lydia was acting, reminded him so much of himself. The fear of breaking. The fear of seeming insane. Of losing your mind. Doubting yourself. All of these things, were what he'd experienced only a few months ago, and he refused, real or not, to let what Lydia was hearing to make her feel that way. "I just need you to try and calm down, okay?"

Her eyes squeezed shut, and her bottom lip trembled as she tried to silence herself by closing her lips. "I'm just scared," Stiles' hands slipped off her knees as she stood abruptly, walking past him and beginning to pace in his room. She ringed out her hands, spinning the ring on her middle finger anxiously. "I don't know, how to do this. I don't know how to deal with all of this. I thought I could learn, but with Allison's gone I just, I don't know any more–and now I'm hearing her voice!" Her pacing picked up speed to the point she almost became like a blur. With each word her chest heaved quicker up and down, and the tears multiplied. "Maybe I am going crazy, Maybe I'm–"

She collided into Stiles' chest as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She'd been so busy pacing, she didn't even see him stand up. She stood frozen in his embrace, his hand running up and down her back soothingly. He'd never hugged her before. It wasn't something they did. They weren't the hugging type of friends. Sure, she'd kissed him that one time in the locker room, but that was a one time thing, and he was pretty sure it was not going to happen again. So this, holding her in his arms, trying to comfort her when she honestly needed it most, was...different. His other hand cupped the back of her head, and she closed her eyes a bit as his fingers rested in her hair. Then, she lifted her arms and placed them around his body, her head resting against his shoulder. He could feel her calm down more and more with each moment he held her. A sigh vibrated through his chest before slipping out of his lips. "You, are not crazy," he assured her. "We'll go to Deaton tomorrow. It'll be over soon."

Lydia pulled her head back, looking up at him. The mention of Deaton reminded her of when he'd told them that they'd held an emotional tether between them; That they had the ability to pull each other back. They were connected. It was moments like this, when he was the only one who could calm her down, that she believed it to be true. He looked down at her, lifting his hand to cup her face. A side of his lip twitched upward into a small crooked smile, breathing a tiny laugh through his nose. "You just need some rest," his smile lessened a bit. "We all do." The look on Lydia's face made him question if he should be touching her like this. Cupping her face, holding her. Maybe it was too much. He couldn't help it. Ever since the sacrifice ritual he found himself even more drawn to her. The instinct to comfort her overruling his thoughts on whether or not he was taking it too far. All it took was Lydia leaning her face into his hand for him to know that this was just the right amount of comfort aloud.

A knock on the door, sent Stiles hand flying away from Lydia's face, who then turned around expectantly. They both felt like deer in the headlights, for reasons they did not know. When the door open it revealed Malia, standing with her eyebrows raised and her nose lifted in the air in speculation. After a few moments, she crossed her arms.

"You two wreak," she tapped her index finger on her arm as they remained crossed. "Am I interrupting something?"

Lydia felt slightly disgusted that Malia would even imply that Lydia would do anything remotely close to what was in the coyote's head, right after her best friend's funeral. Especially considering Lydia was all too aware of Malia and Stiles' blossoming relationship, and she wasn't the kind of girl to disrespect that. She had class, and wore it well. Stiles didn't hide his discomfort towards the were-coyote's comment either, knitting his eyebrows together and scratching the side of his face, as he always did in these kinds of awkward situations. Nevertheless the two stood silent, and they could practically see the suspicion beginning to rise throughout Malia's small frame.

Lydia glanced back at Stiles, hoping the young boy would find it his responsibility to answer the young girl. But he was still scratching the side of his face. So much so, that Lydia could see the slight redness growing due to the friction. Sighing, she turned back to Malia, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and answering the girl.

"Not at all, I was just going to head back downstairs," she wiped at her face, which was now rough due to the places her dried up tears had left their marks. "I'll leave you two alone."

Malia rolled her eyes, sensing something between the two but too drained from the day to continue to pester them about it. "There's no need to leave us alone, I was just coming to tell you that Scott's found something and I think Stiles should try and stop him from using it, because personally it seems like a really stupid idea."

That seemed to catch Stiles' attention long enough for him to actually zone back into the conversation as oppose to his thoughts on how moments ago he had thought about kissing the tears off of Lydia's cheeks. "Wait, what? What did he find?" he stepped forward just an inch, Lydia stumbling to get behind him so he could stand in front of Malia fully.

"I don't know what it's called, it's just some board with letters on it. Apparently he wants to use it to contact Allison or something." Malia flung her hand about, not aware of the dark meaning behind what she'd just explained.

"A ouija board!?" Both Stiles and Lydia shouted in unison.

Malia blinked, taken aback by their reaction. "I think that's it," she shrugged her shoulders. "I didnt care what it's called, I just cared about the fact that Scott is trying to contact a dead girl. I mean if he keeps stuff like this up, he might be the next pack member in Eichen house. Which is why you should probably go stop him.."

"Why would Scott find a ouija board in your house?" Lydia focused on Stiles, her voice squeaking lightly.

"I was a very weird kid," Stiles answered over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of Malia's. "Is he still downstairs with Kira?"

"No, he ditched the both of us for the basement. He had this crazed look in his eyes. Like he needed to do it." Malia leaned against the door frame, taking a moment to look around Stiles' room, which was covered with dirty clothes and the remains of research lying around.

Stiles hissed something through his teeth, clearly annoyed with his best friend's negative choices, before hurrying past Malia out of the doorway, and flying down the stairs. The thumps of his feet hitting each creaking step sending a tremble throughout the house. Malia slowly turned her attention from over her shoulder, back to Lydia, with a blank expression. Lydia, with wide eyes, ran a hand up and down her arm, her eyes bouncing around uncomfortably. "So, what were you two really doing up here?" Malia asked plainly. "Don't lie, I can hear your heart beat if you do." Whatever Malia thought had happened moments ago was far from the truth. Still, Lydia found it intriguing how calm the girl seemed when asking about it. She would have thought even an assumption would send the werecoyote at her throat.

"Nothing. Really." Lydia let her arms fall to her sides. "I just needed someone to talk to about losing my best friend, and Stiles always seems to know what to say to snap me back into reality, so I decided he was probably the best person to go to."

Malia seemed to contemplate that answer for a moment, focusing in on the banshee's heart beat. When it appeared to be beating at a normal pace, Malia relaxed. "Oh. Well, then, I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this whole...trusting thing. Where I come from possessiveness is in our blood." She tried to explain, the muscles in her neck straining as she tried to swallow down the embarrassment.

"Malia, I get it," Lydia closed her eyes. "..But he and I are, just friends. Okay? You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I am so over high school boys."

The were-coyote offered a close lipped smile, thankful for someone trying to understand her. Especially the last person she would have expected, Lydia. A loud shatter sounded from downstairs and both girls jumped, Malia whipping around and Lydia hurrying next to her to get a better look in the direction it came from.

"That came from downstairs." Malia stated the obvious.

"Yeah, I got that much," Lydia breathed, her once calm heart now pounding in her chest. "The question is, what caused it?"

Suddenly, Kira appeared in front of them, and both girls squealed, their hands flying to their chest and mouths in surprise.

"Kira!" Malia growled, angry that she'd been caught off guard.

"Uhm, we have a problem!" Kira's voice was shaky, as it typically did when she tried to explain something. Lydia hadn't heard one peep from the girl the entire day, so hearing her so frazzled was both comforting and disturbing. "The boys sort of, well,—they're fighting!"

"What!?" Both Malia and Lydia shouted in unison, confusion tracing their brows.

"Well, Scott wanted to use the ouija board to contact Allison, and Stiles tried to take it from him, telling him that he had to let go, and then Scott lashed out at him, and Stiles defended himself saying Scott was acting like a crazy person and now they're fighting!" Kira was speaking so quickly it was almost difficult for the girls to keep up. "I know Scott doesn't really know what he's doing because he's so out of it from today but, I just don't think it's a fair fight, I mean Scott is an Alpha and Stiles is, well, Stiles!"

Malia had heard enough and was already halfway down the stairs by the time Lydia could call out a quick, "Malia, wait!"

* * *

"Scott—_Stop_ it, what the hell is the matter with you!?" Stiles shouted, his throat burning at the level he was yelling as he used all his strength to keep his best friend off of him.

"Give me back the board! I need it!" Scott practically roared, slamming Stiles into another basement wall, his hands curled up in the boys now ruined dress shirt.

Stiles grunted, his bones meeting concrete sending a sharp pain through out his body. "Scott, it's just a stupid board! It's not going to bring her back!" His voice cracked and he had to blink to ignore the pain that was now reaching his head.

"You don't know that!" It was almost unrecognizable, the boy that was supposed to be Stiles' best friend had now turned into an murderous being that was so desperate for a board he was willing to harm his best friend. Stiles knew he couldn't blame him. Whatever emotions he'd been holding in since Allison's death were coming out now, but he just wished it wasn't causing him pain.

"But I do know, Scott." Stiles let out a rasp, "Because it didn't bring my mom back either." He placed his hands over Scott's, trying to pry them off of him. Scott's breathing had become rough and almost as though he was prepared to have an asthma attack. "Scott, it's okay! It's going to be okay-" Stiles was interrupted by Scott being yanked out of his view suddenly. The alpha was thrown across the room, and collapsed right near the end of the basement steps. Malia stood in his place, breathing heavily and eyes glowing blue.

Stiles stood, mouth agape, as Scott didn't even attempt to get up. He simply began to shake on the ground, as he released the tears he'd been holding inside. Sobs escaped his lips and he clawed at the ground as though it would save him from himself. Stiles had never seen Scott break like this. Not since his dad had left years ago, but even that wasn't.. _This_. He clenched his jaw, swallowing down the knot that had formed in his throat, and felt guilt sit on his shoulders. This was something not even he could take away. Just as Scott couldn't take away his pain of losing his mother years ago. Some things you just had to release and push through.

Scott rolled over onto his back, still crying heavily. His face was red with heat and the salty tears glistened on his skin as they poured from out of his crinkled eyelids. Malia's claws receded, and she found herself backing into Stiles as her eyes lost their blue glow, and returned to brown. Her eyes were wide, confusion and surprise radiating off of her. Had she caused this? Had she thrown him too hard? She'd never experienced seeing someone release that much emotion that quickly. One minute he'd been a monster, attacking the only person she'd grown a true connection to. The next, he was a teenage boy, sobbing for the loss of his first love.

The stairs screamed and cried at the contact of which Lydia and Kira's heels stomped down them hurriedly. Lydia was first to reach the end of the stairs, where she halted abruptly at the sight of Scott. Her hair fell in her eyes, and with each heavy breath, they lifted and rested off and onto her face. Kira paused behind her, preparing to jump to his side once she'd realized his condition. Lydia was quick to stop her, throwing an arm up to block her. "Stop," she whispered. "Let him."

The veins in Scott's throat looked as though they would burst as his cries grew more violent, even allowing him to release a cough through his lips. He'd experienced heart break the first time he'd lost Allison. But at least he'd known she was alive. At least he knew there was a chance, maybe someday, of them returning to each other. Of them being happy. Now, he couldn't tell you what happiness was to save his life, and the heart break he was feeling now wasn't so much of an ache as it was a pain throughout his entire body. The aftermath of the shattering of his heart the day life had left her eyes in his arms. And it was killing him. Each day it grew harder. Today it had broke him. And he couldn't stop. He had lost it. With each tear he felt her slipping more and more away, and the agony was enough to make his body completely shut down.

Stiles looked up at Lydia, their eyes locking as they recalled what had just happened only moments ago. Lydia had been so close to being in Scott's condition. They were all falling apart. Was this how they would survive? Was this the way life was going to be from now on? Break downs, and heart aches, and emptiness? They knew it was a little too early to be confused by the sudden bursts of emotion, but with each cry that rang from Scott's mouth, they feared there would be no end. The true darkness around their hearts had finally set in. And it was sucking the life out of all of them slowly and painfully.

Stiles finally stepped forward, earning a quick grab of his arm from Malia, stopping him in his place. "What are you doing?" She shook her head, her eyes filled with worry. "He's still off."

"He won't hurt me again," he assured, gently pulling his arm away. "Don't worry." Stiles turned, facing his best friend on the ground, and slowly lowered down to his level. Stiles was never strong. Especially now, at a time where he found it hard to even carry a back pack since the Nogitsune. Nevertheless, with all of his strength, he placed his hands behind Scott's neck and back, and pulled him upward into a sitting position. The boys body trembled in Stiles hands, and he tried to ignore the sadness filling his chest at the sight of it. He had to be strong. For Scott and for himself. Scott didn't fight him, he simply fell forward, and with limp arms and a weak body, let his final cries fall out of him, beginning to slow with each thump of Stiles' heart. Stiles looked up at Lydia once more, not sure of what to do next. He was always good at being there and putting things into action. But right now, he couldn't do both.

Lydia breathed deeply in through her nose, straightening her shoulders. "Kira, do me a favor? Go find blankets.. And candles. They should be in the linen closet if I remember correctly." She spoke quitetly over her shoulder.

Kira was staring at Scott numbly. The reality of the situation dawning on her. They couldn't be together. Not now. Maybe not ever. Not when he was so broken. Sure, she could fix the broken pieces of a sword.. But not the broken pieces of a boy. He needed to heal on his own. Then, when the time was right, maybe. But the simple thought of not being with him...hurt.

"Kira," Lydia repeated, and Kira's eyes focused back on the banshee. "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry.." Kira admitted.

"Could you please go get blankets and candles from the linen closet. It's upstairs near the guest bathroom." Lydia said slowly, making sure the kitsune didn't miss any information.

"Blankets and Candles. Got it," Kira's hair bounced with each nod. "Why though?"

"Because," Lydia's voice grew louder, and she folded her arms, turning back to Scott and Stiles. "We are going to participate in a seance." This caught Scott's attention, who acknowledged everyone's presence in the room for the first time.

"...What?" Scott asked, his voice thickened by the stuffiness of his nose from all the crying. His eyes were raw with tears.

"Yeah, what?" Stiles gave her a look as though to silently tell her she'd dug them all in a hole.

"A seance," She stepped off the stairs and walked around the boys. "A meeting with a group of people, in which they try and contact the dead." She bent down, picking up the board that had been tossed aside during the boys' earlier scuffle.

"I thought Stiles said the board wouldn't work?" Scott began to lift himself from Stiles embrace. Stiles pressed his lips together in a firm line, eyeing Lydia. "He tried for his mom."

"Well, he might be right. Maybe it didn't work when he tried for his mom. But maybe the reason it didn't, was because he lacked the power." Lydia tucked the board under her arm.

"What are you talking about? People on those ghost shows use a working ouija board all the time, and they're mortal. They don't have any powers. My board is just a cheap thing bought at the toy store." Stiles motioned to the board with his hand.

"You're right. They don't have power. They have special effects." Lydia squinted her eyes at him, and he was quick to glare back. "I'm saying, maybe it needed a little bit of spark."

At the mention of "spark", Scott's eyes lit up. "Deaton. Deaton always talked about a spark. Especially with," he stopped mid-way in his sentence, looking back at his friend. "Stiles."

"Well yeah, when it came to mountain ash. It's not gonna work for this sort of thing, I told you, I already tried." Stiles was now beginning to stand, pulling Scott slowly along with him. dust from the basement floor had collected on his pants and he was quick to brush it off. Not that his suit wasn't ruined enough already.

"Yeah, years ago, before you even knew about the supernatural. The spark is all about believing in what you want to accomplish. How could you have believed in something if you didn't even know it existed?" Lydia raised a single eyebrow, feeling pleased with her conclusion.

Malia walked up to Lydia. "You think Stiles can get this ouijy thing to work?"

"I think so, yeah. With the help of a banshee of course." Lydia tilted her head in thought.

"Why a banshee?" Kira lowered herself so that she was now sitting on the steps.

"Well, I'm assuming if I can sense the dead, I may be able to reach them as well." Lydia explained. "I'm kind of going out on a limb here, but it's worth a shot. For Scott's sake.." She swallowed. "And mine."

Everyone lifted their eyes to her.

"I think we all know, that this is needed," she lowered her voice. "If there's some way to even.. Hear her voice one last time. Or feel her presence.. I'm willing to try."

The room was silent, and then, Kira spoke again.

"What happens if we do reach her? If she responds?" She asked, her fear of what could happen if Allison were to ever to return evident in her voice.

Lydia looked back at everyone, not sure of what to say. She hadn't thought about what would happened if they succeeded. In her heart she knew what she would have wanted to do. But they hadn't even begun and it was too soon to make decisions. "I don't know." she said finally. "But, I do know it's late. It's best to do it now rather then later."

Kira looked down, clearly thinking over the plan.

"Kira?" Scott called out to her, and she instantly focused her attention on him. "If you're not comfortable, we can do this at another time."

Kira couldn't help but smile slightly. Even when it was so evident that it was what he'd wanted, he'd taken in the consideration of the rest of his pack. She couldn't be the one to stop these friends from doing what they felt was best for them to heal. She just couldn't.

"I'm fine," she breathed. "We should do it." And with that she placed her hand on the railing, pulling herself up. "I'll go get the candles..."

Lydia sent her a weak smile, watching as the girl treaded up the stairs, leaving the group alone.

Malia pulled the board from Lydia's grasp, examining it. Lydia hid her annoyance at the girls inability to be well-mannered.

"So, how does it work?" She flipped the board in her hands. "Do we just spell stuff to them?"

"No, we talk to them." Lydia pulled the board back from Malia. "We all put our hands on the planchette-"

"The what?" Malia closed her eyes in complete loss of what the word meant.

"The heart-shaped wooden piece, 'Lia." Stiles scratched between his eyebrows, sensing Lydia's growing frustration. "We use it to figure out the message that's sent..." he lowered his head. "If there's a message at all."

Lydia looked up at him, questioning his pessimistic attitude towards the plan.

"Oh." Malia spoke shortly, still completely lost as to what it meant, but feeling it wasn't the right time to ask anymore questions.

Scott had been quiet the entire time, leaned up against the covered up pool table in the corner.

"Scott?" Lydia's shoulders relaxed. "You okay?"

Scott nodded slowly.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked this time, not believing his best friend he knew all too well.

"I just," he let his head fall back against the wall. "I can't believe we're doing this." He looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, now that I'm calmer...It seems a bit," The sentences, couldn't seem to get out of his lips. "Are we being stupid?"

"It wouldn't be the first time." Stiles lifted the corners of his mouth.

Scott scoffed a laugh, closing his eyes as he felt tears beginning to press against the back of his orbs. He was done crying. He had to hold onto whatever strength was left in him. "Yeah,-Yeah you're right I guess either way.. It's just something to add to our list."

"What list?" Lydia crinkled her brow humorously.

"Robin and Batman's list of stupid decisions." Stiles smiled at Scott.

"Isn't it Batman and Robin? Not Robin and Batman?" Malia was done with the confusions. So much for all the teenage lessons Stiles had attempted to teach her.

"He insisted that Robin be first." Scott rolled his eyes.

"As he should be." Stiles looked around at everyone, prepared to argue with whoever protested.

Malia was the first to snort a laugh, then Lydia who practically squeaked, and finally Scott and Stiles, chuckling to themselves like young children.

It was an unexpected moment of positivity that they'd all needed. And for a moment, someone would have never guessed that a few minutes ago, Scott had been collapsed on the floor crying. And even more minutes then that, Lydia had been crying upstairs. They all looked as they always should have. Happy. But special moments never last. They're short and later savored. As memories for the rough times.

"Okay, I got the candles," Kira's muffled voice came from beneath the blanket that was over her face.

Malia tore it off the moment she was in arms reach, revealing a flustered Kira. Hair full of static, and eyes wide.

"How did you see to get down the stairs?" Stiles looked her up and down in surprise.

"Just did." She shrugged. "Where should I put these?" She wiggled the candles in Lydia's face.

"Ah, I guess... Over there? But the blanket goes first." She pointed in the direction, and Malia scurried over, instantly whipping the blanket out of its fold and setting it on the ground. Kira was next, placing the candles in the center.

"What are the candles for again?" Kira asked as she set each up.

"They're a symbol of protection. Just so we don't let any other," she glanced at Stiles "dark spirits back in."

Stiles fidgeted at the reminder of dark spirits, shoving his thumbnail in between his teeth and beginning to nibble.

"Now what?" Scott's eyes bore into Lydia's.

"We.. We sit? And start? I think. This is my first time hosting a seance." She drummed her nails against the board in her hand.

"This plan is definitely going to be added to our list." Stiles said to Scott, clearly bothered.

"Okay, just sit down." Lydia pushed past everyone, tucking her dress beneath her and sitting on the blanket.

Stiles let out a breath of frustration, but still followed her orders, taking a seat next to her. Everyone else fell into place afterwards until they were all in a full circle.

"Now, typically.. This involves two people, if we're talking traditions. But since we now have 5 people.. we'll have to adjust our hand placements on the planchette." Lydia placed the board in the center of the blanket carefully, placing the planchette on it soon after.

"What's the planchette?" Kira frowned.

"The heart shaped thing." Malia informed proudly, her face beaming. Stiles shot her a quick smile of recognition.

"Right." Lydia nodded. "Now, each of us puts our first two fingers on the planchette, like so.." Lydia modeled for them all, placing just the tips of her fingers on one corner of the piece. "You should barely be touching it."

Everyone looked around the circle, nerves beginning to boil. With deep breaths, they all eventually reached out, and placed their fingers, copying Lydia.

"Good." Lydia cleared her throat. "Uhm, now we circle it around the board 3 times..whilst picturing Allison." She racked her brain trying to remember if that was correct.

With concentrated brows, everyone again, followed Lydia's movements. Circling the planchette 3 times.

"Now, we begin.." Lydia closed her eyes, focusing.

The room was eerily quiet, and everyone in the circle had honed in on Lydia, hoping she knew what she was doing. The candles being practically the only source of light didn't help. They were just a group of kids. Supernatural, maybe. But still, talking to the dead was never apart of their job description.

If Lydia didn't know what she was doing, this could end very badly. They all just hoped Deaton was working late just in case they needed his scolding and solutions.

Lydia's voice broke everyone's thoughts.

"Allison. Can you hear us? If you can, let us know of your presence.." Lydia questioned allowed.

Kira glanced at Scott who was now looking around wildly. Stiles had his eyes squeezed shut, looking quite terrified. Which was understandable considering his past with spirits. Malia, sat calmly. Not phased by anything. But Lydia.. Lydia had begun to rock back and forth. It was slight, at first. Almost unnoticeable. But then she stopped, and the planchette began to twitch. Stiles' eyes flew open.

"Who did that?" He asked.

"Not me." Scott stared at the board in shock.

"Lydia?" Stiles was hopeful it was her.

"Sh." Kira cut him off. "I think she hears something."

Lydia's neck craned back at bit, as she tried to get a better listen.

It was a few moments, silence engulfing them again.

Then, Lydia's head snapped forward, and her eyes fluttered open.

"She's here." Her eyes filled with tears. "She's here."

Scott's eyes began to glisten as well, and he sat up straighter, his heart jumping in his chest.

Stiles felt a chill run up his spine, and he rubbed his ear against his shoulder before hesitantly looking over it.

The planchette ripped itself from the groups hands, and they flew backwards. Kira and Malia gasping.

"Don't break the circle." Lydia's voice shook.

The planchette was going so quickly, it was hard to catch what it was saying.

"What's she saying!? What is she saying!?" Scott leaned foreword in a panic.

Lydia and Stiles squinted at the board.

**H-E-L-P M-E**

"Help me?" Stiles' read quietly aloud, his chest beginning to burn with anxiety.

**GOODBYE**

"No, Ally, _wait_!" Lydia shouted.

And then the candles blew out.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, okay. So most of you are probably like..."you're still alive?". Yes. I am. I have been quite busy this past year. Preparing for college, going to film camp, WATCHING THE NEW SEASON OF TEEN WOLF THAT JUST ENDED. My schedule has pretty much been booked. Too booked at least to write. However, I had a really strong connection with this story, and others, so I really felt the need to come back and try and continue to write for it. The second chapter writers block, was also a factor in my hiatus. But I am back, and ready to give you guys chapters on a more regular basis. Now, that being said, I'm still working on college applications and stuff, so I still have some patience with me. But I promise my activity will surely improve over these next few months. Thank you all so much for reading. Your response on the last chapter was what got this chapter out. I hope you enjoyed. Don't be afraid to comment! It helps!


	4. Familiar Faces

**The Fallen**

Chapter 2a

"Familiar Faces"

* * *

_All around me are familiar faces_  
_ Worn out places, worn out faces_  
_ Bright and early for the daily races_  
_ Going nowhere, going nowhere_

* * *

It had been one week since the funeral. One full week since they had said a final goodbye to their fallen huntress. One full week since they'd been to school. Their parents had understood when the teens had asked for a few extra days home. Kira and Malia were the first ones back, seeing as Kira's father was a teacher, and seeing as Kira and Malia hardly knew Allison to the extent of the other 3, he felt 2 days at home were enough to suffice. However Stiles, Scott, and Lydia had stayed locked away in their rooms for the entire 7 days.

It hadn't been that much of a shock to the school system. What, with the amount of school they all missed on a regular basis. But it had been the first time that a death of a fellow student, had been their excuse. For that, the school was most sympathetic and even went so far as to excuse them for the entire week. It wasn't that the three had minded a week off of school without having to worry about catching up. They just wished it had been under different circumstances. Anything but mourning the loss of a friend. a sister. a lover. Anything.

Now, 7 days later, they all stood, staring at the school doors as though they'd open on their own and suck them in. Scott and Stiles had gotten to the parking lot first, sliding in with ease and taking a good 10 minutes to even exit the vehicle. Stiles had decided to give up on clothing for his first week back. His bed-hair still in place atop his head, dark red avengers t-shirt twisted slightly due to his back pack strap, and his black sweats hanging loosely around his hips. Scott had tried a little, trading the sweats for jeans at the most, and combing through his hair at least once. But other then that, a plain green long sleeve t-shirt was all he could put forth. The boys had agreed to meet Lydia in front of school before the first bell rang. Which at the time hadn't seemed like that big of a deal. However, now they realized that they had failed to think about the amount of staring and not so-quiet whispers, they'd have to endure whilst waiting for their friend.

Thankfully, Lydia hadn't taken that long to arrive. Her heels clicking on the pavement being the first indicator that she'd showed up. The boys had turned to see the strawberry blonde with her hair in loose curls, her body snug in a red dress with a black flannel tied around her hips. Her feet were in matching red pumps, and although she walked with her natural confident strut, her lips were consciously tucked in, only allowing a thin line of the red painted lip gloss to peak through.

She'd held her bag close to her, stopping in front of the boys and gave a light shrug. "I tried," Lydia had chewed her lip. "Allison wouldn't have wanted me to compromise my fashion sense. I think she admired my ability to heal through clothing." Scott had winced at the mention of her name, but eventually had relaxed and weakly smiled.

"I think you might have compromised it a little," Stiles had pulled at her flannel with a smirk. "I thought that was my thing." He always knew how to lighten the mood, and Lydia and Scott had breathed a small laugh. Barely audible, but still there, and still enough to break the tension they'd felt surrounding them. The same tension that was currently still around them, with the entire student body having their eyes on the three. It was very clear everyone knew about what had happened by now. The amount of pity Scott could smell in the air was enough to make him sick, and he twitched under their gazes, just as Lydia slipped a shaky hand into his own.

Stiles caught sight of their interlocked hands, and it didn't take him long before deciding to take the initiative, clearing his throat, and forcing his legs to move forward. "Excuse us," he said as loud as he could register, glancing back at Scott and Lydia and urging them to follow.

The crowd split into two perfect lines, just like in the movies, giving them a clear path into the school. All three had frozen in their spots when the crowd had shifted. In slight shock at how quickly everyone had moved upon their request. "Uh, thank you.." Stiles said hesitantly, before continuing to make his way into the school, Scott and Lydia on his heels with thankful smiles sent in the crowd's way. The halls were filling up with each moment that ticked, and the halls welcomed them with familiarity. Something they hadn't been prepared for. They took a moment to pause once they were inside, taking it all in. Making sure they were still breathing. Or at least trying to breathe.

"There they are," Malia had said from down the hallway. She'd been poking her head over the throng of students all morning, waiting for the three to arrive through the doors. "Scott, Stiles, Lydia!" She waved to them with wild arms and a bright smile.

Kira turned quickly, her hair flying over her shoulder upon Malia's shouting. She and Malia had been standing in front of her locker for almost half an hour, hoping the three would have arrived earlier. But with her eyes finally landing on the sad group of three, she realized '_early_' hadn't even been an option for them. Sadly, Their timing along with their attire and ability to have energy was as good as it was going to get.

Her heart sank a bit at the sight of Scott. The two hadn't really talked since the night of the funeral. She understood he needed his space, and she was prepared to give him all the time he needed. That still didn't protect her from the heart ache of seeing him across the hall, and not being able to just run up and wrap her arms around him.

Even if she could, she was sure he would have wanted a more toned down welcome his first day back. Which is why, the moment Kira saw Stiles suck in a sharp breath of anxiety caused by Malia's shouts and calls, she grabbed Malia's arms and tore them back down to her sides. "Malia, no. Give them a moment to process."

"What do you mean? They've had 7 days." Malia furrowed her brow, pouting slightly as she looked back in Stiles' direction. Kira gripped her arms a bit tighter to regain the coyote's attention. Malia growled in pain, before giving up and looking at the kitsune.

"Yes. 7 days, _out of school_. This is their first day back. We've got to give them a bit of room to breathe and adjust. Think about how your first day here went." She made sure Malia wasn't going to lunge for Stiles again, and then slowly released her arms.

"Ugh," Malia rolled her eyes. "This sucks."

"Tell me about it. At least you know where you and he stand." Kira continued to tuck her books in her locker, before shutting it.

"What does that mean? Where are he and I standing?" Malia looked down at her feet, curiously. Kira leaned against her locker.

"It's like... Knowing whether or not you two are mates. Yano?" Kira raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. We are!" Malia nodded quickly.

"Exactly. And see, you know that you and Stiles are mates because—" Kira was cut off.

"—We had sex!" Malia filled in. Kira's eyes grew wide, and her cheeks quickly began to grow a red hue upon them.

"_Yes_. But also, because you've talked about being mates..." Kira forced a smile hoping Malia would catch on. Malia tilted her head confused. "You _have_ talked about it right?"

"Well, no. But he and I _are_ mates. That's just how it works with my kind. Once we've had sex, we're mated." Malia explained as though it should have been obvious.

Kira stared at Malia with her mouth slightly propped open. "Yeah, but Malia, Stiles isn't a _wolf_ or _coyote_ remember? You had sex with a human. A human who biologically isn't apart of your pack. You realize that it works a bit differently for _his kind_, right?"

Malia looked past Kira, with a frown as she registered what the young girl said. "So... Stiles isn't my mate yet? B—But.. I thought.. I mean.. We're at least _dating_, right?"

"Oh boy." Kira ran a hand over her face, just as Scott, Stiles, and Lydia walked up. They had all managed to put on somewhat of a smile for the pair. Scott's eyes were locked on Kira, a sadness hanging in them.

"Hey," He said quietly. Almost as though it was just meant for her. Kira's distressed face from her discussion with Malia slipped away, replaced with a gentle smile and a glint in her eyes. _So, they were speaking_.

"Hi.." Kira responded softly, her eyes looking back and forth between his own.

Scott smiled fully then, close lipped, but still the largest one anyone had seen in weeks from the alpha. Realizing he was only staring at her he shook his head. "I'm sorry,—well—How are you?"

"I should be asking _you_ that," Kira stepped forward, concern laced in her voice. The sudden closeness she'd now created between them caused her to stop short, and she snapped out of their longing stare. "How are you? How are all of you?" She made sure to at least glance at the others.

Scott's smile faltered briefly and then he gave a slight nod. "—I'm okay."

Lydia rubbed her lips together. "—M'fine."

Stiles nodded his agreement in silence and he was midway through scratching the side of his face when everyone turned to look at him. "...What?" When the group only continued to stare he slouched, and dropped his hand. "I _nodded._"

It wasn't enough, but Stiles was saved by the bell. Something he'd never thought he would get the chance to say. Still, saving only meant going back to class, and that brought on a whole other wave of torture. His chest tightened and he looked to Lydia who had paled and then Scott who had clenched his jaw, looking around as kids began to move to head to their classes.

"If you guys need anything, my phone is on me okay?" Kira assured them, lifting her phone in the air and giving it a nice wiggle.

"Thanks," Scott lifted the corner of his lips. He almost had the urge to reach in and pull her into a hug. But he felt it wasn't the right time. Not when anxiety was pouring out of him with each _shrill_ of the school bell. He turned to Stiles expectantly. "You ready?"

"Who is ever ready for school, honestly?" He pulled his strap further up on his shoulder, and then placed a hand lightly on Malia's back. It was the first time he had acknowledged her since he walked in, and the first time he realized she hadn't said anything since they'd stopped in front of Kira's locker. "Hey.. Malia, you okay?"

Malia looked up at him in a daze, smiling once she locked eyes with him. "... Yeah, I'm okay." She stood on her heels and pecked his cheek, right on the corner of his lips. Stiles blinked as she pulled away. "Time for math, right?" She laced together their fingers, and beamed at him.

Meanwhile, Stiles was busy still staring at their hands, his eyebrows raised. "Uhm,.." He blew out air from his cheeks. "Yeah," he sounded hesitant and quickly adjusted his tone. "I mean, Yeah. Yes, Time for math."

"Lydia, you'll be happy to know I've been doing good in math!" Malia informed proudly, and Lydia's eyes tore from where they were focused on their hands.

"That's great!" Lydia pressed a smile. "Although you don't seem to be doing _well_ in English. Do you need my notes?"

Stiles squinted his eyes at her, "_Lydia_."

"I have to use the bathroom, excuse me." Lydia didn't even look at Stiles before she turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway, clinging to her bag as though it was the only thing holding her up.

The group of teens stared after her with worried glances, before the warning bell rang. "She'll be fine," Scott tried to convince not only everyone but himself. He wasn't stupid, Lydia was far from okay. But he figured she'd wanted to be alone, and so he would give her that time by keeping the others busy and away from her solitude. "C'mon. We should get going."

Lydia was simply around the corner, resting against the wall and breathing deeply. She was sure Scott would have smelled her, heard her heart beat, anything that would give her away. But he had kept it to himself and for that she was grateful. Squeezing her eyes shut she rested her head against the wall, regret seeping through her veins.

She had been cruel. Malia probably hadn't caught on as to how she had been cruel, but the rest of the pack had and she felt so stupid. Malia didn't deserve it. To be frank, Lydia didn't know why she had acted as she did. Blame it on her first day jitters, or the fact that Malia and Stiles were _holding hands._ Sure, Lydia had known that the two had previously been... involved. And sure, she had known that since Malia started attending school, they had done more then just look over her math notes when Malia would stay over the Stilinski's after school.

But, up until then, Malia and Stiles were a thing only behind closed doors. PDA was avoided, and Lydia for the most part hadn't been forced to admit 100% that Stiles was no longer available. Because how could she accept something she rarely saw? Yes, the night of the seance she had noticed that things were growing to be more serious by the way the two interacted. But really there were just some days she liked to pretend to be in denial. The moment Malia had kissed Stiles' cheek, and held his veiny hand in her own, she had swiped any chance of Lydia denying it away.

It wasn't Malia's fault. It wasn't Stiles' fault. It wasn't anyone's fault but Lydia's that she felt the way she did. Because there were so many times that Lydia could have chosen the freckled face boy. Many times that she could have gone into the safety of his arms, and been happy. But she had chosen corruption and abuse more times then one. For the simple fact she felt that Stiles deserved better. And now, he had a girl who looked at him like the stars shined out of his ass, and Lydia was _cruel_?

She was ashamed. But not fully. Because apart of her wasn't just upset that Stiles and Malia were slowly making it official. Part of her was upset because Stiles had become her best friend, since Allison. He had slept over on the floor in her room just to be there when she woke up screaming. He'd brought her food therapy and movies on days she didn't want to leave her room. He'd been there through every step of the healing process. Never once leaving her alone. And now, with a simple hand hold she feared being alone. Because Scott and Kira would get past this unsure stage, and be back to kissing under the moonlight soon enough. And apparently, Stiles and Malia were on their way to couple-town as well. Two couples, one lonely Lydia.

No matter who was dating who, she'd always had Allison. And when she lost Allison, no matter what day, she had Stiles. And now, she knew she wouldn't have Stiles forever. She never got to keep the ones she truly loved and cared for. Not Jackson, not Allison, not Aiden.

Everyone ends up leaving her.

So, she'd snapped. A simple jab at the were-coyote who was still learning, in the hopes to find a sliver of the girl she'd used to be. A girl who was strong, who didn't spend hours of the day crying. Lydia Martin the intelligent bitch who didn't have a care in the world. She'd tried to be that girl again, because being that girl, was better then feeling the pain she currently felt.

But she only realized after Stiles looked at her with wounded eyes, that she could never get that girl back. Because now she did care what people thought of her actions. A select few people, but those select few were still important enough to her to make her feel like crap for even the subtlest of insults. Her bottom lip trembled.

"Allison," She sniffled, looking up at the ceiling with teary eyes. "I could really use your wisdom right now..." The tear slid down her face, and she dropped her head in her hands, willing herself not to cry.

"_Lydia._" A voice whispered through the halls, and Lydia gasped, her head shooting up from her hands as she looked around.

The halls were empty, only the far away muffled voices of the students behind closed classroom doors to fill it. But Lydia was no longer naive enough to think what she'd just heard was a mistake.

"H—Hello...?" She lifted a shaky hand to push a curl behind her ear.

"_Lydia._" The voice whispered again, this time closer, and Lydia reached behind her to hold onto the wall as her knees shook.

"Who's there?" She whimpered, fearing the answer.

"_Help me, Lydia. Help me._" This time the whispers were much louder, and the voice sounded scared, almost like they were running from something. But that wasn't what had caught Lydia's attention. It was the phrase the voice had used. The same phrase she'd heard after Allison died. The same phrase that had appeared on the ouija board. She knew who was speaking.

"A...Allison?" She spoke the name like it was a question, even though she already knew the answer.

Then the lights above flickered, and Lydia's memory took her back to the day the Nogitsune had trapped her in the school hallway. The lights had flickered all the same. The lockers began to shake and tremble, and before Lydia could open her mouth to scream, a gust of air flew by her, with the scent of pine and vanilla. _Allison's scent_. "Stop it.." She breathed, and then the hallway fell silent.

Lydia clasped a hand to her mouth, as though it would disturb the sudden peace in the empty hallway. For a moment, every thing seemed as though it was back to normal. Until suddenly, a single silver arrow rolled from the edge of the hall, to the tips of her toes. It knocked the air out of her.

Lydia's heart pounded in her chest and her breaths became labored. "No, no, no." She begged nobody in particular, and then she stood up straight the best she could, and bolted down the hallway, rounding the corner the same way she'd came. Glancing back over her shoulder she nearly tripped, but before she could hit the ground, firm arms gripped around her, catching her mid air. She didn't know who it was, but she was suddenly sobbing in their chest. Under different circumstances she would register how awkward it was for her to do so, but she was too shaken to even care. "I.. I.." She tried to get out, but the sobs stopped the words from coming, and she gave up.

Thankfully, the person who had caught her was only Scott. Scott, who had heard her heart beat and breaths from one floor up. It had only taken him 2 minutes to take the hall pass and run down the steps to get to her. He hadn't known where she was, until she'd slammed into him, sobbing just as hard as the day she had when Allison had died. It horrified him, and he was thankful nobody else was in the hallway to see.

"Lydia, Lydia, shh.." He lifted her up so she was standing, and got a better hold around her to help her stay up. "It's okay, you're okay. It's just me." He cupped the back of her head. "Look at me, what happened? Is there a dead body? What is it?" He tried to lift her head to look at him but her head was dug in his chest and she made it clear she wasn't planning on moving. He could feel the warmth of her tears soak his shirt.

"I can't be here Scott. She's everywhere I turn. I need to leave. Please get me out of here, please," Lydia's voice was thick with tears, and when she finally looked up at him he saw how terrified the girl looked. Like she had seen a ghost. "I... heard her voice. She was here. Scott, she was here."

Scott was confused. She had heard Allison? What had she said? Did this mean the seance had worked somehow? He had no time to ask, because soon she fell forward again, her legs buckling, and Scott caught her once more. "Okay. C'mon. I'll call Stiles, and we'll take you home."

"No!" Lydia shook her head. "No Stiles!"

"Lydia, you know he's better at bringing you back down then I am. Plus he has the jeep. My bike is in the shop. I just need to focus on you being okay right now.." Scott explained and then wrapped his arm around her waist to better hold her up. "I just need you to hang on for a second.."

He slipped out his phone, quickly typing in Stiles' number and shooting him a text.

Stiles was in the middle of a Math equation at the board, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes popped wide, and he took a sneak glance at his teacher who was already eyeing him suspiciously. "Aha, sorry about that." He slapped at his pocket and went back to finish the problem.

Malia was chewing on her pencil from her seat, when her phone began buzzing. She jumped, and looked around once people began to focus on her. Even Stiles looked back. She sunk low in her seat, giving the teacher an innocent smile before sneaking the phone under her desk and opening the message. It's content worried her.

_**From: Scott**_

_**Malia, tell Stiles to look at his phone. Emergency!**_

"Uhm, Stiles?" Malia called to him, and Stiles stopped writing on the board to look at her as though she was crazy.

"Ms. Tate please do not interrupt Mr. Stilinski during his problem." The teacher folded her arms sternly.

"But, you don't understand, our friend says that he _needs_ to check his phone," Malia bit back at the teacher, and turned to Stiles giving him a look. "It's an _emergency._"

Stiles didn't hesitate then, dropping the chalk, and digging his hand in his pocket.

"Mr. Stilinski!" The teacher stood up, baffled.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just.." Stiles waved her off, opening his messages and sticking his tongue out as he read.

_**From: Scott**_

_**Lydia is in trouble. Need to get her home NOW. Need jeep. Meet in parking lot.**_

Stiles grimaced, clicking off his phone and hurrying to his desk to grab his bag. "I am so sorry Mrs. G, but I need to leave."

"Mr. Stilinski, never in my years—" His teacher began to protest, but was cut off by Malia.

"I'm coming too!" She began collecting her papers, and Stiles was quick to stop her.

"No, Malia. You stay here. I'll be back."

"But don't you guys need my help?" She furrowed her brow, and Stiles shook his head.

"No. Everything's fine. Just stay here. I'll text you." And then without so much as a look at his shocked teacher and peers, he busted through the door and hurried down the hall to get to the parking lot.

Malia, with all eyes now on her, plopped in her seat. Slightly angry, slightly embarrassed. They would definitely be discussing Stiles' decision to leave her out of the loop later on. _Bad mate_, she thought to herself, huffing out a moody grunt.

Stiles meanwhile had just made it to his jeep, breathless with beads of sweat on his forehead. Scott was trying to talk down a very upset Lydia who was leaned up against the hood of his car, crying. Stiles clicked the unlock button to get their attention, and didn't hesitate to take Scott's place in front of Lydia. Scott put his fist to his mouth, watching the two.

Stiles placed his hands on her shoulders. "Lydia, look at me. Right at me, okay?" Stiles ducked his head to get a view of her tear filled eyes, forcing her to look at him. "Good. What happened? What's wrong?"

Lydia looked at him like his touch wounded her, and she looked away from him to look at Scott. Stiles frowned, looking back to Scott who was nodding for her to tell him. "I heard her again..." Lydia said meekly. "I was in the hallway, and she called out to me. And then..." Lydia winced. "Then I felt her. I could smell her scent. She was there. I don't know how, but she was there..."

Stiles slowly straightened, registering what it meant. "You mean.. Like her spirit?" He let his hands fall from her shoulders, once the banshee nodded. "What did she say?"

"The same thing..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "_Help me._ But this time it sounded much more urgent. She sounded scared." Lydia felt her bottom lip begin to tremble. "..I didn't know what to do, or how to help her. She's begging me to help her and I don't know how." The tears filled her eyes. "I don't know what to do.. I can't keep.. Stiles I told you I can't do this—I—"

"Okay, alright.." Stiles pulled her into him to stop her from breaking down again. "Look, we're gonna figure this out. Okay? I told you we would. Let's just get you home first and then tomorrow we'll go to Deaton right after school. I promise." Stiles rested his chin atop her head and looked at Scott. They both felt at a loss. Lydia was losing it. They knew her well enough to know she wasn't going crazy. If she'd heard Allison, then she had heard Allison. But they hadn't seen her this upset over something and they weren't sure they knew how to get her through it. All they knew how to do was go to Deaton. And in Stiles case, all he knew was to get her to stop crying. Even if it was temporary, something about their bond have them the means to bring each other back. "C'mon, let's get you in Roscoe." He pulled out of the hug and nodded to his jeep. "I got it from here if you want to head back to class..." Stiles glanced up to Scott.

Scott seemed hesitant, looking back at the school with twisted lips. He watched as Stiles opened the door, allowing Lydia to slip inside. "Are you sure? I don't mind."

"Yeah. Honestly, at least one of us should finish the day. I'll come back after I get her settled." Stiles closed her door and swung his keys around his index finger.

"Alright. Text me if something comes up. I'll be there as soon as I can." He eyed Stiles.

"You got it." Stiles walked around to his door, and yanked it open.

Scott gave Lydia a small wave, and Lydia smiled weakly back. Then, he turned and began jogging back to the school. Stiles slid into the car, and pulled the door shut, shoving the keys into the ignition, and beginning to back out, his free hand on the back of Lydia's seat as he looked to make sure he didn't hit something. Lydia was looking down at her hands as they shook in her lap. She hadn't told them about the arrow. The arrow that had rolled to her feet.

She'd never seen something like that before. She was pretty sure all banshees had, was the hearing ability. She didn't need the boys thinking she was beginning to hallucinate images. But she hadn't been mistaken. It had been there. It had rolled against the linoleum floors of the hall, and clinked against the tip of her pumps. Allison was trying to send her a message. But she wasn't sure what it meant. And it was driving her mad. She ran her fingers through her hair, before resting them against her lips, looking out the window.

Stiles glanced at her as he drove, keeping his hands clenched around the wheel. The car was silent, and he felt the urge to say something, but he didn't know what to say. At least, nothing he hadn't already said.

So, he resulted to flicking on the radio, keeping the volume low to at least distract them from the hell of a situation they'd found themselves in. Life had been far from normal ever since Scott had gotten the bite. But for the most part, it had been bearable. Lately, things hadn't been. Life was kicking all of their asses and for the first time, they were struggling to get back up. So much had changed. So much had been lost and gained. What was next? How much more could they handle before they fought a battle that destroyed not just one of them, but all of them?

Pulling onto the street of her neighborhood he finally spoke up. "Are you gonna be ok, if I head back?" He chewed on his cheek.

"Yeah," Lydia nodded, "I'll be fine. I'm just going to try and sleep. Maybe that'll help.."

Stiles swallowed, turning into her driveway. "Are you sure? I can stay if you want. I told everyone id come back, but I don't have to." He shut off his engine and turned to her in his seat, as she unbuckled her belt.

"No, you should go," Lydia didn't look at him. Because if she did, she would tell him to stay. And she couldn't prevent him from trying to move on with his life. She had to handle the pain alone. "Don't leave Scott to face the first day back all on his own.."

"But that leaves you all on your own," Stiles pointed to her, and the words pulled at Lydia's emotions.

"Yeah. But that's okay." It was a lie. She was sure he knew it, because of the way he looked at her. But she wasn't backing down. "Really. Go. I'll be fine."

Stiles seemed to contemplate for a long time, drumming his fingers against his dash and looking out his windshield. "_Stiles,_" Lydia spoke and he turned to her. "Go." She nodded and he let out a sigh.

"Yeah, okay.." He still looked like he wasn't sure, but she was asking him to go, and so he would. Even if they both knew it wasn't what she wanted. "You'll call me if—"

"—You'll be the first person I'll dial." She cut him off, knowing what he was going to ask. Lydia and he had agreed that if Lydia ever needed help, to call Stiles first. It had started when she'd found the first dead body, and he'd yelled at her for calling the police before him. But as their friendship grew, it became more of a general agreement. Expanding past moments when she found dead bodies, to moments she just needed someone to talk to.

Stiles relaxed. "Good."

Lydia stared at him, and the leaned over in her seat and hugged him the best she could. Stiles froze, and then slowly shifted to hug her in a less uncomfortable way. It was their second real hug. They had gone from friends who rarely hugged, to friends who were now hugging on a more regular basis. Not that he was complaining. The fact that he and Lydia had grown this much from when he was just a stupid teenage boy with a crush, was something to be proud of on it's own. The hugs were just another benefit he'd gained from it. When she tucked her head in his shoulder he smiled to himself, and gave her another squeeze. "Thank you.." She spoke softly.

"Hey, any time.." He let her slip out of his hold, and lean back in her seat. She gave him one final look, and then opened her door, hopping out and shutting it behind her. Stiles' eyes followed her until she was in her house, and then he started the car, and slipped out of the driveway. But not before sending Scott a quick text.

_**To: Scott**_

_**She's okay. Didn't say much on the ride but she didn't cry and assured me she would be okay. Said she's gonna sleep. On my way back.**_

Lydia had just made it to her room when she heard Stiles finally drive off. Apart of her wanted to call him and tell him to come back, but she knew that would be selfish. Clicking on her light, she looked around her disheveled room. A result of not having the energy to clean it for the past week.

Lydia had always kept her room organized and clean. But since the funeral it was just the graveyard of junk food boxes and bags, week old laundry, and spewed about makeup and hair products that she'd failed to put away after using. She was thankful that it had been awhile since anyone had visited. It was embarrassing, and at some point, she would bring it back to it's once sparkling clean glory. At some point.

Walking over to her vanity, she pulled out a makeup wipe from it's packet and began to clear her face of the smeared remains of her eyeliner and foundation. Crying really worked a number on her. She closed her eyes, wiping off the clumped eye makeup with a gentle touch. She couldn't wait to get undressed and get in bed, where she could forget about the day and go back to hiding away like she had the entire week.

When she lowered the wipe, and opened her eyes, she had expected nothing but her make-up free face in the reflection. But what she got was something that made her yelp out, tossing the makeup wipe and whipping around, her body slamming against the vanity and causing the objects on top of it to clatter to the ground.

There, in front of her, was Allison Argent.

Wearing the same dress she'd been buried in, only this time it had grass stains and dirt clinging to it. Her hair was damp and tousled. Her finger nails embedded with black dirt, and her feet bare and scratched. She was staring at Lydia with scared eyes, both girls trembling at the sight of each other. Lydia found herself forgetting how to breathe. It was Allison. Allison was right in front of her, and Lydia couldn't move.

"Lydia?" Allison blinked, and small pieces of dirt fell from her eyelashes.

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. "This isn't real. This isn't real." She repeated, praying that the image would disappear. She was hallucinating. She'd tried to deny it before but she couldn't anymore. She was going crazy. "This isn't real, this isn't real.."

"Lydia, what are you doing?" Allison took a step forward, reaching out for her.

Lydia popped her eyes open and jumped away from the girls touch, screaming. "_Don't_—touch me!" She grabbed a brush from behind her and stuck it out in front of her as though it were a lethal weapon.

Allison raised her hands in defense. "Whoa, Lydia. It's _me_. It's_ Allison_."

"What are you, another _demon_? Huh!? A _shape-shifter_?" Lydia carefully stepped around her so that she was close to her door. "You're the one who's been messing with my head, aren't you!? Calling out my name, asking me to help you! It was a trick wasn't it!? What do you want!?"

"You could hear me!?" Allison raised her eyebrows.

"Of course I could hear you, I'm a _banshee_ you—you—" Lydia couldn't think of what to call whatever was standing in front of her, but it wasn't her best friend. She'd give anything for Stiles to be with her right now.

"I didn't think you could hear me. You wouldn't answer. I thought I had done something wrong, but you were never one for the silent treatment..." Allison licked her lips and then gagged. "God, _why_ am I covered in dirt?" She looked over herself.

Lydia frowned, still holding the brush up.

Allison looked at her, and rolled her eyes. "Lydia, will you put the damn brush down, and _help me_? I need to get out of these clothes." Allison lifted some of her dress with disgust, and Lydia found herself slowly lowering the brush, her eyes never leaving the girl standing before her.

"... Allison?" Lydia squeaked, eyes welling with tears, and Allison stopped messing with her dress to look at her.

"Yes?" Allison looked at Lydia expectantly. "I thought we established that by now."

"But... You're..." Lydia shook her head, a tear sliding down her face.

"A mess? I know. I don't know what happened. I woke up like this, and the next thing I know.. I'm here." She motioned to her room, and then focused back on Lydia. When she noticed the girl was crying she instantly became concerned. "Lydia? Are you okay? Why are you crying?"

Lydia dropped the brush completely, in disbelief as she looked Allison over. This couldn't be happening. "It's_ you_.."

"What do you mean? Of course it's me." Allison looked lost.

Lydia lifted a hand, and Allison followed it with her eyes. The strawberry blonde poked Allison, feeling the cool flesh against her fingers. She snapped back, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my god.."

"Lydia, you're really starting to freak me out.." Allison admitted.

"How is this possible?" Lydia whispered to herself, but Allison heard.

"How is what possible?" Allison closed her eyes, growing slightly annoyed.

"Oh god, you don't remember do you?" Lydia suddenly felt a sickness grow inside her.

"Don't remember what?" Allison paused, craning her head and urging Lydia to continue. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Lydia licked her lips, catching the traces of a tear drop and wincing as the salt hit her taste buds. "Allison..." How does one tell a person that they're dead? That they shouldn't be amongst the living anymore. Especially when all you've wished for since you've buried them, was that they would come back, and act as though nothing had changed. That it had all been a grueling nightmare. Answer? She couldn't. "Sorry. I'm just.. Really tired." Lydia laughed, lifting her hand and wiping the tears from her face. "Uhm.. Here," she walked over to her closet, pulling out two towels. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, and we'll talk when you get out.." Lydia fought the lump in her throat, her heart crackling in her chest.

Allison kept her eyes on Lydia, slowly taking the towels. Lydia frowned at the fact that Allison could actually hold objects. Wasn't that the point of being a ghost? Not being able to touch things of the living. Being see-through and what not? Hell, all Lydia had to go off of was Casper, and it was clear from the moment she laid eyes on Allison that she was far from that interpretation. "Okay? Thanks." Allison was suspicious, but she complied, tip toeing out of the room, and heading towards the bathroom.

Lydia waited until she heard the shower turn on before she rushed over to her bag and ripped it open, hurriedly pulling out her phone. She had to call someone. She couldn't be the only one that could see her. She just couldn't be. She scrolled through her contacts, sticking to her agreement to call Stiles first, and quickly pressed '_call_'.

Stiles had made a pit-stop on the way back to school. He had skipped break fast on the means of being too exhausted. But now his stomach was grumbling, and seeing as he had already left school, he didn't see the harm in making one more stop before returning. Hell what difference could it make?

So, he sat in the drive thru of Beacon Burgers, looking over the menu even though he had already knew what he had come for. "_Welcome to Beacon Burgers, what can I get for you today?_"

"Hi, can I get the Uhm," Stiles squinted to make sure he didn't screw it up. "3 jumbo number 19s, please? Just the fries."

"_Just the fries?_" The person on the other side asked in surprise.

Stiles shrugged. "Well, I'd like one of the drinks too.." He twiddled his thumbs when silence greeted him. "..Is that not a thing?"

"_Well, sir, you could just order the curly fry special._" The person sounded disturbed.

"Yeah, but that's not big enough." Stiles reasoned. "That's why I wanted 3 jumbo sized number 19s.."

"_You know that our curly fry special can be bumped up to jumbo size upon customer request? That's more then the amount of fries that come with the number 19 combined._" Stiles was ready to argue, when he registered what the person said and clamped his mouth shut.

"Huh. Really?..." He looked up at the ceiling of his car in thought. "Yeah, okay. Let's do that. One jumbo curly fry special with a coke, please!" He smiled to himself.

"_Will that be all?_" He could hear buttons being pressed.

"Yuppity yup." He nodded enthusiastically.

"_Your total is 10 dollars and 16 cents, please continue on to window 2._"

"Thanks!" He slammed on the gas, ready to get a decent meal in his stomach. Well, as decent as Stiles considered.

By the time he rolled up to the window, he was practically dancing in his seat. It had been too long since he'd had a good bunch of curly fries. It wasn't until his cell began to buzz in his cup holder that he stopped mid-motion and looked at the ID.

**Call from**

**Lydia Martin**

He had expected her to call. But not this quickly, his stomach twisted with concern and he had the phone pressed to his ear before it could ring any longer.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked.

"_I need you to come back to my place..._" Lydia sounded distressed. "_Like, now._"

Stiles looked through the glass window, watching as his fries were just placed in the frying oil. "Uh...like, _now_, now?"

"_Yes! Stiles! Now!_" Lydia's voice trailed from the phone. "_Something is up!_"

He pouted slightly, giving the fries a longing look. "Could I just—"

"_Stiles! Please! Hurry! I don't know what to do!_" Lydia's voice cracked, and it was all Stiles needed to forget the fries.

"I'm on my way." He ended the call, putting the car in drive and lurching forward.

He could hear the worker stick his head out the window and call after him, but it was too late to turn back now. His curly fries would just have to wait. Lydia needed him. And he'd asked her to call if she needed him, and she had. So the least he could do was choose her over the curly fries. Even if they were almost close to their golden crispy glory. Stiles slammed his hand on the wheel, throwing a mini tantrum, and then gasped out in pain, not realizing how hard he had hit his hand until there was a sharp pain shooting through his arm. "Holy mother fu..." He breathed and then relaxed. "Okay.. You're fine. You got it. You're not gonna be a little bitch, even though you're pretty sure you just _fractured your fucking hand_." His voice escalated briefly and then he calmed himself once more, clearing his throat. "You're okay." He talked himself down as he sped down the road, hoping to god one of his fathers deputies wasn't out on patrol duty.

It took him about 10 minutes to reach the Martin's house, and maybe 10 seconds to stumble through the front door and flail up the stairs in his typical melodramatic fashion. So it only made sense that he collapsed in a breathless mess the moment Lydia opened the door to her room. He laid on her soft carpeted floor, his face planted gently in the fiber. "I'm here," he muffled, lifting his head and plucking a fluff off his tongue. "I'm here.."

Lydia leaned down, helping him up, and shutting her door with a horrified look. "Ok, this is going to sound.. Really, crazy.."

Stiles was still heaving, fists planted on his hips as he tried to regain his breath. "I thought we already talked about this. _Nothing_ you could ever say, would make me think your crazy. Especially now."

Lydia folded her hands together. "Even if I told you that_ Allison Argent_ is currently taking a shower in my bathroom?" She challenged him, and Stiles' breathing hitched in his throat.

"Okay! That's crazy." He finally breathed, looking at Lydia with wild eyes.

"I know! But it's _true_!" Lydia placed her hands out before her, and glanced over her shoulder, listening to the shower head still running. "She's here. She just appeared in my room—in her funeral dress might I add," Lydia began to pace and Stiles watched her, with a crazed stare. "She has no clue _how_ she got here or _why_ she was here. I don't even think she knows that she's dead."

Stiles mouth was hanging open by the time Lydia finished and he closed his eyes, not being able to process. "Uhm.. Okay. Let's just pretend for a second that.. This is the truth, and you're not as crazy as you're currently sounding..." He waved his hands, his eyes still shut. "How the hell would Allison even come back..? I mean wouldn't that require some sort of.." Stiles snapped his fingers trying to think of the word. "..Some sort of...—"

"—_Seance_?" Lydia filled in for him, and Stiles slowly looked up, catching her eyes. "Yeah. It would." She nodded.

The two fell silent, staring at each other.

"Are you meaning to tell me.. That what we did the night of Allison's funeral.. Actually _worked_?" Stiles spoke with his jaw clenched, trying to prevent his lips to shake as much as his hands and knees were. The thought that they had brought somebody back from the dead was enough to make him want to throw up.

"I think it had a part in it.. Yes. But we didn't do a resurrection spell. Something else had to of been involved." Lydia cracked her knuckle against her hand.

"Like what?" Stiles shook his head.

"I don't know. That's why I needed you. I need to know how this happened. This doesn't seem right.." Lydia walked towards her computer.

"Of course it doesn't, Lydia. It completely throws off the balance. Dead people don't just come back to life! That's not how the system works!" Stiles was getting more anxious with each word he spoke.

"Well apparently it did work this time!" Lydia looked back at him, from where she sat, typing in her login.

Stiles rubbed his hands roughly against his face. "This is insane." He groaned.

"What's insane?" A voice said, and Stiles jolted around, as Lydia quickly stood from her desk chair.

Allison, stood in Lydia's doorway, with a towel wrapped around her body, and another in her hand as she scrunched the droplets of water out of her hair. She herself gasped at the sight of Stiles, dropping the towel in her hand to hold the towel around her body more tightly.

"Stiles!? What are you doing here!?" She looked from him to Lydia with wide eyes.

Stiles' breathing was the first to change, picking up it's pace as the reality of the situation sunk in his chest like a carved knife. His eyes burned with the threat of tears, and he traced over every line and curve of the girl before him, his brain working rapidly to give him a way to respond to her arrival. Then his hands began to twitch at his side, and he found himself stepping forward, even as Allison began backing away, completely confused by his actions.

She had been dead. She had a sword dug through her, and she had died in the arms of his best friend. And it had all been his fault. His stupid, pathetic, fault. But now, she was standing in front of him, and the guilt was masked by a certain shock and relief. Comfort wrapped around his very being, and he failed to blink, afraid she would disappear if he did.

Lydia found her way beside him, planting a hand on his arm. "Stiles?"

His chest rose and fell harshly, and he lifted a finger pointing towards Allison, who returned his stare with a curled lip and crinkled nose. "You—" Then, Stiles' eyes were rolling into the back of his head, and his body was tipping. Allison moved for the first time, her hands reaching to grab him, and Lydia gripped his arm tighter hoping to stop his fall. But it was too late.

Stiles Stilinski, had fainted.

* * *

**A/N:** Lol remember when authors used to update on a regular basis? Because I don't. I'm sorry this took so long to get out. But I hope you enjoy it, and I love all of you very dearly. I know the reaction to Allison's return is probably a bit more calm then you would expect it, but don't worry. I'm focusing on the initial shock right now, once it fully registers that she's back, it will be an entire different story. But I'm so excited to finally get this out to you, and thank you to those who have waited patiently, I'm going to try to get the chapters out much more quickly.


	5. The Rose of Jericho

**The Fallen**

Chapter 2b

"The Rose of Jericho"

* * *

_Then I hear you whispering low_

_One more mile to Jericho_

_Nothing is ever what it seems_

_When you live inside your dream._

* * *

Lydia sat on on her floor, Stiles head in her lap as she desperately tried to wake him. Leave it to Stiles to ironically faint instead of assisting Lydia in trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Not that she could blame him, if it weren't for the shock that had frozen her in place, Lydia probably would have passed out earlier too. But her adrenaline had been pumping and she found herself missing her chance to be dramatic about the situation. She had chosen to take action. Take action, and call Stiles. The person who always figured it out. Well at least he typically did. When he wasn't lying unconscious.

Lydia raked her fingers through her hair, biting her lip in desperation for the lanky boy to open his eyes and snap back into the situation at hand. But Lydia had tried everything from light tugging of the hair, to slapping on the cheeks, to pinching. Nothing had made the boy budge. Although, he may or may not have some questionable bruises tomorrow morning.

Allison was sitting on Lydia's bed, looking down at the two with her knees tucked into her chest, her chin resting atop them. She had taken her chance to put clothes on after Stiles had fainted. Lydia had received some of Allison's things after her passing, so she'd found a pair of leggings and a loose purple shoulder top she figured the girl would like. In Allison's mind the clothes had just been left once at a sleepover. Little did she know...

"What was Stiles doing here?" Allison motioned to the sleeping boy.

Lydia didn't move her eyes from Stiles, trying to think of another way to wake him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he has a Japanese dark spirit inside him, and we haven't found out a way to get him back yet..I'm not sure having him over like this is a good thing. I mean who knows when the switch will go off." Allison nibbled at her nail.

Lydia finally lifted her gaze from Stiles and looked at Allison. So her memory stopped just before Lydia got kidnapped then. Good. That was just perfect. So she still thinks everything is shit, and Lydia has to explain to her that somehow they saved Stiles and defeated the Nogitsune without mentioning the fact that Allison was their casualty amidst it all. How the hell was this supposed to work? She wasn't good at this. She couldn't think on her feet like Stiles could. He needed to wake up.

She ignored Allison's comment and did the only thing left she could think of. Gently lifting his head off her lap, she placed it on the floor and then shifted so she was now face to the face with him. Allison sat up straighter, "Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Sh," Lydia didn't even look at Allison as she silenced her, before she rested both her hands on the side of Stiles' face and planted her lips atop his own. Allison made a noise of surprise, and Lydia closed her eyes, willing Stiles to wake up in her mind.

It took a few seconds, but suddenly Stiles lips began to move, pressing back against hers, and then his eyes shot open, and he snapped into a sitting position, causing Lydia's small form to fly backwards off of him. "What happened!?" He blinked wildly.

Lydia took her index finger, wiping the smeared lipgloss from around her lips. "Oh nothing, you just _fainted_!" She quipped, pushing herself off the floor to stand.

"I did? Why?" Stiles asked, and Lydia was really beginning to regret calling him. She didn't have the energy to answer, so she lazily lifted a hand in Allison's direction. He had paused, and then turned to face the brunette who was sitting stock still ever since she watched Lydia kiss him. Allison had known Lydia had been growing feelings for the boy recently, but seeing her kiss him, was an entirely different concept to process. She was feeling a bit confused.

Stiles wasn't confused at all however, once his eyes landed on Allison and he found himself falling backwards on his hands and knees, scooting further away from her. "Oh. I see," he rasped out. "I remember now."

"Good. Now can you compose yourself or am I going to have to call someone else?" Lydia trailed him as he stood up.

"Like who, _Ghost Busters_?" He was in the middle of straightening out his shirt when Lydia whacked her hand against his arm.

"Stiles!" She glared, and looked at Allison to make sure it hadn't clicked in the girl's head. "Could you just focus for a second?"

"I am focused. It's hard not to be focused when _she_ is sitting right there," he pointed directly at Allison, and the girl jutted her head back, feeling slightly offended due to his tone. "I don't even know where to begin with this. I mean where do we begin!?"

"I don't know, but you always figure it out." Lydia whispered feverishly, and Stiles sighed, really hating that he'd ever been considered to be _that guy_ in the group.

"Yes, typically, but_ this_," He lowered his voice. "_This_ is literally the balance of life we are talking about here. We're gonna need way more then just my brain to figure this out, Lyds.." He hated to admit it, but it was the truth. Not even their detective minds together could unravel this surprise on their own. Eventually they would need help.

"Is someone going to tell me what is going on?" Allison finally stood, crossing her arms. Stiles and Lydia stopped talking and plastered fake smiles on their faces.

"I'm so not gonna get used to that.." Stiles whispered through his grin, at the sound of her voice.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia asked, trying to give her best smile.

"I'm talking about the fact that you almost attempted beheading me with a brush, and then began crying after you touched me. Stiles fainted when he saw me, and now is looking at me like I have two heads. And you two haven't stopped whispering since you got him to wake up," Allison went over the list in her head. "_What_, is going on?"

Lydia slowly looked up at Stiles and was caught off guard to see him already looking at her. Lydia was pleading for him to take the job of telling Allison out of her hands, and he took the hint without question. Still it wasn't an easy task, and Stiles averted his eyes to the floor once he accepted the responsibility. He swallowed down the nausea that had settled in his throat and took a step towards Allison, extending his hand for her to take. Allison looked at Lydia with a horrified look and Lydia sniffled.

"He's okay," Lydia nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Go ahead.."

Allison sucked in a deep breath and then slapped her hand into Stiles'. The boy tried not to faint again at her touch, but instead led them back to Lydia's bed and sat her down, crouching down in front of her.

"Allison," Stiles looked at her hands in his and rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin. "Something has happened recently.. and we reacted to you, the way we did because of this thing.. That happened." This was already going horribly downhill.

"What.. Happened?" Allison lifted her shoulders to her ears.

Stiles glanced back at Lydia and then to Allison. "...We defeated the Nogitsune."

Allison's eyebrows raised. "Wait, what? I don't remember that happening. Why don't I remember that happening?"

"Well because.." Stiles voice caught in his throat and he closed his eyes briefly to give him a moment to think. "–Because you died.. Before it happened." He said finally, opening his eyes to look up at her.

Allison was staring at him. She was staring at him long and hard. "This is a joke, right?"

"No, I wish it was," Stiles whispered. "You were killed by an Oni after saving Issac."

Allison was prepared to laugh. She was ready to full on cackle because Stiles was pulling the biggest joke he'd ever told. But then she saw Lydia's face. Lydia, who she could read like the back of her hand. Lydia who was covering her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping her lips, and looking at Allison like she was still dead.

Allison tore her hands from Stiles' grasp and stood. "This isn't funny."

"Allison," Lydia spoke finally, her voice watery and broken with tears.

"No! Lydia! Stop!" Allison felt the anger boil inside her. "You're both lying to me! If you don't want to tell me what's going on, fine! But this is a sick alternative!"

"Allison, we're not lying to you!" Stiles tried to stop her as she began storming around the room.

"Right! Well if I'm dead, how am I standing here? Huh?" Allison stopped in her quest, looking at them.

The pair was baffled, because they didn't know how. That was something they had yet to figure out.

"Exactly," Allison said after she was greeted with silence. "You guys are sick!" She looked around. "Where is my phone?"

"You don't have one anymore,..your father cut it off a few weeks after the funeral.." Stiles answered quietly, once again looking anywhere but the brunette.

"_Bullshit._ Lydia, call my phone.." Allison pushed a fallen curl behind her ear. When Lydia didn't move, Allison gave her a look. "Lydia, please call my phone!"

Lydia blinked, teardrops making a home on her face as she slowly pulled out her phone. Stiles pinched the brim of his nose. Lydia scrolled through her phone, breaths shaky, and then she clicked on the number she hadn't used in so long. She put it on speaker so they would all hear when it did nothing but pull up an automated voice.

It hardly even rang before the robotic voice echoed through the room. "We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service or is currently disconnected. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number, and try again." Lydia slowly lowered her phone.

Allison shook her head. "No. That's not–you must have dialed the wrong number. Try again."

"Allison, it's the right number." Lydia's head was beginning to throb.

Allison walked forward and snatched the phone from her hands. "Give me it," she sighed, dialing in her number and pressing the phone to her ear.

Lydia turned and sat down, feeling dizzy. This was all too much to handle.

When Allison heard the same message she grunted, tossing the phone on the bed. "Screw this. I'm going home."

"Allison," Stiles said monotone, still pinching his nose in the same way his father always did when stressed. "You can't go home right now."

"I can do whatever the hell I want, Stiles.–" Allison pushed passed him and reached for the doorknob.

"–You were pierced through the stomach." Stiles dropped his hand from his face, turning to face her. Allison stopped short, her hand inches from the knob. "You shot your last arrow. A silver arrow. And it killed the Oni," he continued retelling the story. "You figured it out. You saved, all of us. And then, an Oni, took it's sword, and dug it through your stomach..." Allison jumped.

She remembered the pain, numbing her whole body. The coolness that encased her afterwards. The feeling of death crawling. A trembling hand reached up and felt the area of her stomach that had once been pierced were sharp silver, killing her. The memory suddenly felt like the present and her whole world began to shake.

She remembered Scott, holding her. Crying. She remembered her lungs burning and her eyes blurred with tears. It felt like she was dying all over again. She stood very still, and Stiles took a hesitant step towards her, his hand outstretched. Lydia looked on with worried eyes and her hand slipping from her mouth as she watched on, seeing the realization hit Allison like a truck. The girl didn't move.

Stiles finally reached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Allison whipped around, gasping with eyes rimmed red from tears. Stiles pulled his hand back, not wanting to upset her anymore then she probably already was. "I'm sorry," he breathed, a pained expression on his face as he took a step away from her to give her space.

"How long?" Allison finally spoke, her voice thick with tears.

"A few months.." Lydia wrapped her arms around herself.

Allison turned fully, leaning back against the door, and slowly sliding down it.

Swallowing, she closed her eyes before licking her lips and looking up at the pair.

"And my dad? Where is he?" Allison let the tears simply fall down her face, not ashamed.

"France..." Stiles took a seat by Lydia's bed, resting his arms on his propped up knees. "He didn't really see much use of staying here after..." He trailed off and Allison knew clearly what he meant.

They all sat in silence for a long time, not moving, staring ahead of them as though the world would enclose around them and there would be nothing left. Allison felt numb, and suddenly very cold. As though she was wearing her skin as a suit. Like rubber. She wasn't meant to be here. They all knew it. But she was there, and that was enough to puzzle them all.

She hated how she could remember dying. She could remember what it felt like when the life left her eyes and when she took her final breath. It was agonizing, and she found it harder and harder to swallow the more she thought about it. Twisting her fingers with her opposite hand she tilted her head upward, straining a pain shot through her head, and then all over her.

"I need to see it.." Allison looked at both of them, her orbs bouncing back and forth.

"See what?" Lydia asked.

"My grave.." Allison informed, and then she looked back down at her nail beds, now clean of the dirt that once outlined them. "I need to see it."

Lydia looked to Stiles, who peeked at her from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know if that's such a good idea.." He said slowly.

"I don't care, I need to know that this is real," Allison shot her head up to stare him on and Stiles looked at her surprised. "Look, you can show me or I'll go find it by myself, either way I'm going."

"Allison, we don't know how you're even here right now. You're supposed to be dead," Stiles reminded her. "Now, we have more experience with the supernatural, so although this is a lot to take in right now we're not as thrown off by it. But other people will probably feel the need to visit a psychiatric hospital after seeing you walking around town.." He had a point and Allison knew it, gritting her teeth in return.

"Well then what's the plan then, huh? Just keep me locked in Lydia's closet like I'm E.T or something until we figure all of this out?" Allison waved her arms wildly.

"No," Lydia stood slowly off the bed. "No, we call Deaton."

Allison looked at her best friend like she was a figment of her imagination. Why had she pretended like everything was okay? Why hadn't she warned Allison? Did she not think she could handle it? Because if that was the case, Allison couldn't deny that she was right. For the first time, Allison felt she couldn't handle a situation. But she would have to, just like she did all the struggles she'd faced in her life. Her life that she was no longer supposed to be living, apparently.

"Okay," Allison pondered and then nodded to herself. "Yeah, okay. That.. That sounds like a good plan."

Lydia smiled weakly, fighting back tears. Allison was sitting in front of her. She was in her room a place they had found solitude so many times through nail painting and magazine flipping and endless deep conversations on boys and life. Now there they were, trying to figure out why she wasn't, dead.

"Uhm, let's try and keep this just between us for right now," Stiles rubbed his hands on his jeans. "I don't know if Scott is ready to handle.." He glanced at Allison. "_This_."

"I mean if anyone was going to tell him it would be you, so if you think you should wait.." Lydia gave an understanding nod.

"Yeah. He's still––Well, yano." It was very obvious he was trying not to give any information out. "Dealing with the loss."

Allison frowned painfully. "Scott––He––He was there? The night I died. He was the one who––...I said my last words to _him_?"

Stiles looked at her, stared for a moment even. Then, he timidly nodded.

"Oh god I probably destroyed him," Allison placed her head in her hands. "Didn't I?"

"Honestly?" Stiles shook his head. "I think if you hadn't said your last words to him he would be worse off."

Allison let her hands slip so they were now clasped under her chin. Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "And Issac? How's Issac?"

"We haven't heard from him since the day of your funeral... He left for France with your dad. He kind of.. Took him after it all that happened." Lydia crossed her arms.

Allison could feel a bit of relief wash over her. It had been something she and her dad had talked about. That if one day they were to leave Beacon Hills they would bring Issac. Make sure he had a home, a family. He had his pack, but he had slowly become the son Chris never got, and Allison hadn't minded having him around.

She was happy to see something good had come from her untimely death.

"Good," Allison pressed her hands into the carpet, pushing herself up. "So, is there anything else I should know before we go see Deaton? I just wanna be filled in.."

"Well Uhm," Stiles cracked his fingers. "We have a new pack member.. Her name is Malia. You remember her right? The were coyote we found in the woods.. Well––not we––but Scott and I?"

Allison squinted her eyes. "...Yes I believe so.." Her face relaxed in recognition. "Did she turn out to be a Hale?!" She looked to Lydia seeing as she could remember their talk in the car, comparing Peter and Malia's photos and finding similarities neither of them wanted to be true. Stiles looked quite confused and turned to Lydia.

Lydia cleared her throat. "Yes. She turned out to be Peter's daughter.."

"Holy shit," Allison breathed. "Talk about a cruel fate! I mean I guess it beats dying though––" She stopped herself short, the words flying out of her mouth and hitting her hard once they had left.

"We don't have to go see Deaton today you know?" Lydia took a step forward. "We could - catch up, get you prepared.."

"Lydia, we should go now. Just so we can know what we're dealing with here." Stiles cut in, not willing to waste anymore time.

"I agree with Stiles," Allison scratched her palm. "If we can figure out how I'm.. Back, then id really like to find out sooner rather then later.." Lydia knew it was kind of selfish. Selfish to think that maybe just one more day with Allison wouldn't be a bad idea. Selfish that the initial shock was slowly wearing off, she couldn't imagine possibly figuring out how Allison was back and sending her back to the land of the dead. She had wanted more time, and now she had an opportunity to maybe have that time, and it suddenly felt like it wasn't going to last more then a day, at most.

"Yeah," She squeaked, turning her back to them and walking to her closet. "You're right, we should go now," she pulled on a light jean jacket. "Stiles?"

"Yeah I got it," he twirled his keys around his index finger, allowing them to slap into his palm. "Should we get her like.. A hood, or an invisible cloak.. Or something?" He couldn't shake the weird feeling he got when looking at Allison, but he managed to focus long enough to make sure all bases were cleared before they walked back into the land of the living with their very dead friend. Or at least, supposed dead, friend.

Lydia was flipping her hair out of her coat when he mentioned it, "Right. Good idea," she breathed, turning and fumbling through the items in her closet. She finally settled for her dad's old rain jacket. It was black and torn in some places, but it was the only thing she kept of his since the divorce. "Here you go..Zip up." She handed it to Allison, and the girl looked at it meekly as she took it into her hands.

After Allison pulled the hood over her head and zipped the jacket up to her chin, Stiles and Lydia decided they were satisfied with her disguise. They all hurriedly exited the house, making sure to keep Allison's head down at all costs. The only moment they felt safe was when they were pulling out of the driveway in Stiles' jeep, yet even then the car was filled with a tension filled silence. That is, aside from Stiles' nervous drumming of his fingers on the wheel.

Lydia rubbed her lips together, her heart thumping in her chest as she pulled out her phone, dialing the familiar number.

It took three rings before Deaton's voice rang through the receiver, "_Lydia,_" he tried to surprised. "_Is everything alright?_"

"Hi Deaton," Lydia forced a smile that he couldn't see, and Stiles glanced at her as he drove. "I'm not really sure, I was hoping you could tell me.."

"_What appears to be the problem?_" It never failed to amaze Lydia how calm he could sound after the things they typically faced.

"Ah," Lydia turned to look back at Allison, who was staring out the window with a far off look. "Are you sitting down?"

"_The anticipation is horrifying.._" She could practically see his brow furrowing in preparation for the worst, and Lydia flicked her eyes to Stiles, afraid to continue.

The freckled face boy gave her a slight smile, doing his best to encourage her whilst trying to focus on the road. Finally, Lydia sucked in a deep breath, and closed her eyes, wincing as she muttered the words, "Allison is alive." She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, preparing for his burst of shock, disbelief, heart attack..

_Silence._

Silence for a good 2 minutes, before Lydia pried her eyes open. "..Deaton?" More Silence. Lydia could feel Allison and Stiles staring at her. "..You still there?"

"_Yes I am here,_" Deaton cleared his throat. "_How soon can you get here?_"

"We're already on our way. I'd say like.. 5 minutes?" Stiles nodded when she looked to him for clarification.

"_Good. We don't have much time._" Deaton no longer sounded calm, but frightened.

"What? What do you mean? Do you know what this is?" Lydia sat up straighter.

"_I believe so. I could be wrong, but if I'm not, then the quicker you get here the better._" She could hear the clinking of glasses as his voice became rushed and breathless.

"Deaton, what're you––?" Her voice was cut off by the dial tone, and Lydia snatched her phone from her ear.

"What did he say?" Allison leaned forward, so that her head was right between the seats.

"He didn't really say anything.. Just that he might know what caused this, and if he's right about it that we need to hurry to him because we don't have much time?" Lydia frowned to herself as she explained.

"What does that mean?" Allison questioned.

"That's exactly what I'm wondering.." Lydia lifted her eyes to meet Allison's. "Stiles, how fast can Roscoe speed here?"

"Enough to give my father a heart attack when he gets a phone in that his son is going 40 miles over the speeding limit.." Stiles gripped the wheel a bit tighter.

"Perfect," Lydia turned back to face the front in her seat.

"God he's gonna kill me.." Stiles slammed his foot on the gas and the car lurched forward, the tires screeching against the pavement as he did his best to play speed racer the rest of the way to the vet.

Allison did her best not to grow dizzy from being tossed around in the back seat with each yanking turn Stiles took. But she soon realized that getting car sickness was no longer an issue. Even though she'd had it her entire life. The girl placed a tentative hand on her stomach, where by now she would typically feel it twist and turn with the promise of road sickness. But what she got was nothing. Just the flat, hard abdomen of a girl who shouldn't be living.

Lydia turned her head silently, looking at Stiles who's knuckles had grown white due to how tightly he'd been gripping the wheel. She felt bad for bringing him into this. After everything he'd been through over the course of the past few months, this was probably the last thing he needed. But at the same time, she couldn't handle all of this on her own. And Stiles had slowly begun to fill the void that had been empty due to the lack of her best friend, so if anything he shouldn't of expected anything less. Still, she could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest and so she reached over giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Stiles froze slightly under her touch, and then relaxed, nodding a thanks.

Allison squinted at the two from the back seat suspiciously, and then she leaned both her elbows on either of their seats. "Speaking of things I should before we see Deaton - is this a thing?" She motioned between the two.

Lydia casually slipped her hand back into her lap, looking back with confusion drawn on her features. "This..?"

Allison nodded her head to Stiles, and Lydia instantly gasped, jerking backwards in shock and causing Stiles to swerve on instinct. "Whoa! What!?" He shouted.

"Nothing!" Lydia squeaked and then turned to Allison. "Trust me,_ absolutely nothing_." This time it held a different meaning. Allison put her hands up in defense.

"You can't gasp like that while i'm speeding you're going to give me a heart attack," Stiles lifted a hand off the wheel to place a hand on his chest. "Holy.."

"Sorry. I thought I saw something.." Lydia gave Allison one final look and then sat forward. "I won't do it again, promise."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "That would be preferable, thanks.." He calmed his breathing down, placing his hand back on the wheel and slowing a bit as they pulled onto the road leading to the vet.

Allison chewed on the inside of her cheek and then paused, deciding against it. Technically it was dead flesh. But it wasn't. The thought already grossed her out before she could remind herself that she was sort of alive. At least, she felt like she was.

Stiles put the car in park and they could see Deaton moving quickly through the vet window. Lydia hopped out of the car, pulling her seat forward so Allison could slip out. Stiles glanced around and then locked his car, placing his hand on Allison's back to lead her to the doors. It was weird, touching her. And he soon pulled his hand back, shoving it in his pocket instead when Allison looked back.

He shot her a sad smile, but they both knew why he had pulled back the way he did. He wished things weren't so complicated. He wished even more that he didn't feel so responsible for it. Deaton's door let out a shrill ring as the bell hanging above it shook upon opening. The lobby was empty as usual, and Allison looked for cameras before sliding the hood off her head. Lydia was picking at her cuticles, arms limp at her side. Stiles didn't fail to notice she was in a daze, stepping a bit closer to her to remind her that he was there, if she had by chance forgotten.

Shoes shuffled against the ground, and the three teens looked up as Deaton rounded the corner. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes landing on Allison, who suddenly felt severely self conscious. She pushed some hair behind her ear nervously, giving her hands something to do as she awaited his response. His face was hard to read, contorted with a mixture of sadness, happiness, and confusion all at once.

"Uh, Deaton?" Stiles' voice broke through the silence, causing Deaton to blink rapidly.

"Yes, sorry, I just.." He stepped to the side, opening the half door to let them behind the counter. "Please, come to the back."

Lydia took the first step, looking down at her heels as they clicked against the flooring. Stiles followed quickly after her, giving Deaton a knowing look on the way. Allison was last, and took her time, pausing to stop in front of Deaton, "It's nice to see you.." She spoke quietly through what would be a smile if she wasn't so nervous.

Deaton lifted his arms, pulling her into a hug. The two had never done things like this when Allison was alive, but she figured dying could effect their typical interactions. "We're going to figure this out.." He said into her hair, before releasing her slowly. "It's good to have you back with us.." He braced her shoulders, and then led the way to the back. Lydia and Stiles were already looking through the bottles resting on the metal table. "I see you've found the inventory..."

"All of these things are for animals?" Lydia lifted a bottle.

"Hidden in plain sight," Deaton plucked the bottle from her hand. "This is actually wolfsbane. I just labeled it as a pain medication." Lydia raised her eyebrows.

"You better hope nobody ever tries to rob this place. The police will be pretty interested in your hiding places.." Stiles slid a bottle across the table. "So what's this one?" Deaton caught it in his hand, smiling gently. "Why are you smiling?"

"I just find it funny how you selected this bottle in particular,...Your _spark_ led you to this one," Deaton looked up to look at Stiles, who instantly frowned. "What, did you forget about your spark?"

"I just kind of figured if there was any _spark_ left in me the nogitsune drained it out of me.." Stiles shrugged. "I never really got what it meant anyways so it's no big deal."

"It means you have a gift, Stiles.." Deaton pointed at him. "And it's still in you. Don't forget that."

"Well, with the kind of _gifts_ distributed around here, I think I'll be okay forgetting it for a while.." Stiles was being snippy, but he wasn't interested in anything supernatural having to do with him. Being possessed for a month could do that to a person. ".. Anyways what's so special about me selecting that bottle?"

Deaton pursed his lips, holding back his urge to change Stiles' attitude towards his gift, and then unscrewed the cap. "...This," he poured the contents in a line on the table. "Is The Rose of Jericho."

"The.. _What_?" Stiles leaned forward, to get a better look. Both Allison and Lydia kept their distance.

"_The Rose of Jericho_.. Also known as the resurrection plant," Deaton held it up at eye level and then looked towards Allison. "Quite ironic, wouldn't you think?"

"What does this mean? Someone planted the rose of Jericho on Allison's grave and now she's back amongst the living?" Stiles flailed his hands around dramatically. Lydia rolled her eyes, pinching her nose.

"Precisely," Deaton tilted his head from side to side. "Or, at least, in a way, _yes_. The actual ritual performed with this is actually much more complicated. If someone did plant this flower... They knew very well what they were doing. Therefore they had purpose." He explained.

"That's a dead end. It's not like we can narrow it down if that's what happened. A lot of people wanted Allison back.." Lydia finally spoke up.

"Yes, but not everyone wanted Allison back for the same reasons," Deaton took a step towards Allison, gesturing to her with the rose. "Some people might have saw use in her.."

"_Use_?" Allison's eyebrows raised. "What use do I serve?"

"You're smart. _Powerful_. And you know more about Scott McCall then anyone else.." Deaton's hands folded together in a loose clasp, and Allison stood up a bit straighter as he explained the plausible reasons to her.

"So, somebody is using her to get to Scott?" Stiles lowered his thumb nail from his lips. "That's stupid."

"Not to whoever brought her back. Somebody found Allison to be a very important part of their plan," Deaton crossed his arms. "We, just have to figure out what that plan is."

"I'm not so sure we're on the right path here guys. I mean, if someone had wanted to bring Allison back, why not wait for her to wake up? Crawl out of the grave, and then take her into their hands the moment she took her first breath again? Why let her roam around?" Lydia stepped closer to the lab table separating herself from Deaton. "I'm _assuming_ if they're as intelligent as you say they are for knowing how to use this plant, that they wouldn't make such a stupid mistake as to let her out of their sight." Stiles snapped his fingers and pointed to Lydia, whilst looking at Deaton. As if to say, _she's got a point._

"Those _are_ fair points, but letting her roam free could very well be apart of their plan as well," Deaton lifted his shoulders meekly. "See how she affects the pack––" He paused suddenly, putting his hand on his chin. "..They were expecting her to go to Scott first."

"Allison would have caused Scott to be at his weakest," Stiles mumbled to himself, yet at the same time aloud. "The shock from seeing Allison would have confused him and put him in an emotional state that would effect him, should he be suddenly attacked."

Deaton nodded in agreement. "Like I said, they knew what they were doing."

"They just didn't know who they were doing it to," Allison whispered. "If they had done their research they would have learned fairly quickly that it was less likely for me to go to Scott."

"They could have been basing it off of who your final thoughts were with––which, was indeed, _Scott_." Deaton reminded. "It could have been many factors, and it could have been anybody. For all we know this person could have been tracking you from the first day you stepped foot in Beacon Hills, to the last. Or, they could have been tracking Scott for the past few months and gained false intel due to the lack of time. It's _really_ hard to say."

"Whatever it is, how do we go about fixing it?" Stiles brushed off Deaton's info.

"I'm afraid it can't really be called _fixing_. We could undo what has been done, but that will just reinvent the grief you've been healing from these past few months." Deaton winced, and Allison glanced at her two friends.

"So, you're saying I would just go back to being dead?" Allison swallowed the knot in her throat.

Deaton stared at her long and hard, and then nodded silently. "As much, as I hate it, you are not meant to be on this plain anymore. The longer you stay on this plain, when you're meant to be in another, the quicker your body will begin to re-deteriorate. Your hair will start to fall out, along with your teeth. Skin will become almost like paper––easy to tear through. You'll die a slow, and draining death.. and once you do, I can't promise you'll take the same path you took prior to being brought back. It could change your entire afterlife."

"There's an afterlife?" Stiles turned to Allison, eyebrows raised.

"I––I don't remember.." She was in a daze, thinking over what Deaton said.

"Which is _normal_. The moment you were brought back it was like a reset button. That's why you can't remember when, where, or how you died. And it's also why you'll not have any recollection of what happened after your heart stopped," Deaton sighed, sad to be discussing this topic with kids who he considered family at this point. "The other side is very private. They try to keep the veil on as tightly as they can."

"Basically, we have no other choice but to end our friend's life for the_ second time_, or else she'll become a walking corpse with her teeth showing through her cheeks and her eyeballs hanging out of their sockets?" Stiles painted a picture that was not welcomed by anyone in the room.

Allison for one, raised her fingers to delicately touch her eye, as though she was checking if it were still in it's place. Lydia simply shuddered.

"Stiles, enough." Lydia spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm just saying this seems a little unfair," Stiles didn't take his eyes off of Deaton, and Lydia felt an instinct to step forward, blocking his view. It didn't take long for Stiles' eyes to trail down and meet her own. "Sorry." He swallowed and Lydia sighed.

"There's nothing else we can do?" Lydia finally spoke, turning to face Deaton. "Because quite frankly.. I don't see the benefits in losing my best friend all over again, either.."

Deaton paused, drumming his fingers against his lips. "Quite possibly.. But that would require me going to my sources, and that would take another day or two, tops."

Lydia slowly turned to look at Stiles, then finally Allison, who was still in a daze. "Well?"

Allison blinked, looking upward. She didn't know what to say. No option sounded completely satisfying. Another day or two only gave her another day or two to panic on the outcome of the situation. And dying wasn't really on the top of her current wish list. Could the dead even have wish lists? Active ones, anyways? "I don't know.." Allison swallowed, finally dropping her hand from her face. Then, she did something she didn't normally do, which was look at Stiles. "Stiles?"

Stiles was as surprised as she was that she'd turned to him for an answer. "I.." He shook his head. "–I say we try it? What's two more days gonna do, right?"

"Two more days for Scott to possibly find out.." Deaton reminded. "We would have to be extremely careful. Which is also quite difficult seeing as we don't know who is behind this. You two may need supernatural protection from Scott or Derek, and that may not be a plausible resolve right now."

"Derek would be fine, as long as it's not Scott." Stiles stated, taking a step forward and leaning over the metal lab table. He closed his eyes and sighed, the sinking feeling rising in his chest. "_God_, anyone but Scott."

Lydia twisted her lips sympathetically, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Two more days it is... I'll call Derek."

Stiles nodded, and wiped a hand over his nose. "Yeah. _Okay_."

"So,.. What am I supposed to do between now and then? Is there anything to expect.. _Physically_? Allison looked down at her skin, prodding at it.

"If you're wondering if you're going to go full on Zombie in the course of 48 hours, I'm here to calm your pounding heart," Deaton assured. "You _may_ grow an overwhelming sense of hunger. It's only natural, your digestive system is rebooting. In fact, all of your systems are. The digestive track is different though, seeing as you've been in the earth for a bit, you'll crave more of a_ natural meal_.."

"_Natural_ meal?" Allison frowned.

Stiles winced. "I think he means raw meat."

"Precisely." Deaton pointed a finger, and shoved his hand in his pocket.

Allison clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh god, that's disgusting."

"To average human huntress Allison Argent, maybe. But, to risen from the dead Allison, not so much." Deaton waved his hand. "Eventually it will go back to normal, but the start will be a bit rough."

"So, I should start shopping for uncooked hamburger meat, or should I go hunting for deer?" Allison scratched the back of her head.

Stiles snorted a laugh. Everyone turned to look at him, confusion on their brow. He quickly cleared his throat. "Sorry, I just.. I thought of something Malia said.. About.. _deer_– Please continue!" He covered his mouth.

Deaton gave him a knowing smile, and then turned back around to face a clueless Allison, and a slightly bothered Lydia. "Raw hamburger meat from the grocery should be just fine. Although I'm sure we'd all love to see you back to work with a bow and arrow."

Allison's face lit up slightly, and then it faltered. "Oh no, I doubt I even have a bow and arrow left to work with. I'm sure my father disposed of it all or hid it in some storage unit in France. His way of coping.."

"Well we have two days. I'm sure we could find something up to your argent carved bow standards.." Deaton smiled gently. The door to the vet suddenly dinged, and footsteps pattered quickly on the tile. Deaton's eyes grew wide, raising a finger to his lips. He motioned for Allison to hide, and she looked around with a crazed look, not knowing where to run. Stiles spazzing out, flailed his arms, scooping her into his hands and pushing her towards the cat holding room.

Lydia did her best to hide all of the things pulled out, and even did so much as straighten out her clothes to seem more natural.

When Deaton returned a minute later with an teenage boy, who she was sure went to her school, her shoulders visibly relaxed. He was holding an injured dog, who was whimpering with each step it's owner took. Deaton wiped at the sweat that had formed on his forehead. "Lydia, I shall see you later?"

Lydia glanced at the boy, with almost golden green eyes, who was frowning between her and Deaton. "Uhm, yes, of course." She gave a short nod, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and slowly backed away near the back door. "When Scott gets into work, could you tell him to call me?" There. That made sense. She knew someone who worked here. And that's why she was in the back.

The last thing Lydia needed was for a teenager from school to walk into the back room of a vet to see a sweaty Deaton, a disheveled Lydia Mrtin, and then tell the whole school that she was sleeping with the local vet. These things did happen. The supernatural world didn't prevent high school gossip. With that in mind, she quickly turned and pushed through the back door, where Allison and Stiles had their backs pressed against the side brick wall.

"Wow. _Great_ hiding space you guys, really.." Lydia complimented sarcastically. "Scott would have _never_ been able to find you two."

"Look, we had no other option, my jeep is parked in the front." Stiles pushed himself off the wall.

"Why didn't you just stay in the cat holding room where you went?" Lydia pointed over her shoulder.

"Because I'm allergic," Stiles placed his hands on his hips, and then sniffled. "My throat was beginning to kill itself."

"Yeah right. You are not allergic, you probably just don't like cats." Lydia sighed, beginning to walk in front of the two.

"Why would I lie about being allergic to cats of all things!?" Stiles followed quickly behind her, and Allison soon fell into step beside them.

"Because it's what you do. Lying is what you're good at.. amongst other things." Lydia tilted her head to the side.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Stiles crossed his arms as they began to round the front of the building.

"You _really_ want me to pull out that list right now?" Lydia's hair whipped over her shoulder as her feet began to pick up their pace to reach his jeep.

"Yes." Stiles blinked. "I really do––"

The sound of an engine roaring cut them off really quick, and Stiles and Lydia both snapped their heads to the side. Passing through the front parking lot of the vet, Scott was headed right toward them on his dirt bike. Stiles' heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, and all of the air escaped him. There was no way that he didn't see Allison. There was no possible way. He probably heard her heart beat, smelled her scent, heard her voice––something! It was too late to try and turn around and run. Too late to do anything but accept the fact that their alpha, was about to have the emotional shit kicked out of him.

"Allison––" Lydia turned quickly on her heel, only to see that the girl was gone. "...Allison?"

Stiles opened his eyes, turning upon the confused tone laced within Lydia's voice. It didn't take him long to see what she was confused. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know. Maybe she went to hide when she saw Scott?" Lydia's eyes trailed around them as she spun in a complete circle, taking in their surroundings.

"Where could she have possibly run that fast?" Stiles copied Lydia's movements, his heart suddenly racing.

"I don't know, Stiles! Okay!? I don't know!" Lydia shouted, too exasperated to play 20 questions. The pair were two busy freaking out, that they hadn't noticed Scott shut off his bike. They hadn't noticed him pull off his helmet, a frown upon his face after seeing his two friends spinning in circles in the back lot of the Vet. They hadn't noticed him walk over to them, the same look still across his features.

"Guys?" He called, his helmet in his hand. Stiles almost tripped over his own feet turning to face him. Lydia took her time, trying not to seem obvious. One of them had to keep their composure, and it was quite clear that wouldn't be Stiles.

"_Scott_," Lydia pressed a smile to her features. "Hi."

"What are you two doing?" He lifted an eyebrow, looking between the two.

"We were just... _looking around_." Stiles stated the obvious.

"Why?" Scott jutted his head back.

"Well.. Because...We.." Stiles was trying to form a lie, and Lydia rolled her eyes, stepping in front of him.

"I lost my earring," She spoke as though it were nothing. "My mom gave them to me for my birthday, and if I come home without it, her feelings will be deeply hurt. With everything going on, it's the last thing I want to deal with."

"_Right_." Stiles backed her up, scratching his chin.

Scott's questioning look pulled back a bit, as he decided whether or not to believe the lie Lydia was clearly telling. After a few moments of a brief stare down, Scott let out a sigh and shrugged. "Alright."

Lydia offered him a weak smile. "I should probably head home though, so, could you keep a look out for me?"

Scott nodded slowly, and then paused. "Wait a minute.. I get you lost your earring.. But why were you guys here in the first place?"

Stiles looked at Lydia with wide eyes, and she was really beginning to question why she thought he was the right person to partner up with in situations like these. Taking in a deep breath, Lydia tucked her lips in. "I couldn't wait to ask him about what I saw in the hallway today.. I tried sleeping but it kept me up, so I asked Stiles to just, take me to Deaton.."

Scott's face fell guilty, as it was clear he had forgotten about the earlier ordeal. "Oh.. Right, What did he say?"

"He said that it was probably just my banshee instincts. That since my powers are growing, I can not only sense death before it happens, but I can also sense the dead postmortem.." Lydia explained, right off the top of her head. Stiles looked at her amazed, because they hadn't even mentioned it to him inside. It didn't surprise Stiles that Lydia would be able to think up an intelligent sounding explanation, but he was just surprised she'd gotten through it with such composure. If he'd been telling that lie, it would have been filled with breaks and shifty eyes. He wondered how her heart beat was doing.

Taking what Lydia said in, Scott chewed on his bottom lip. "Did he say anything about the possibility of werewolves sensing the dead postmortem?"

Lydia's eyebrows knitted together. "..No..Why?"

Stiles focused his attention back on Scott, the same question forming in his head. Scott looked down at the ground, shoving his hand in his pocket, which was something he did when he wasn't exactly sure how to go about explaining something. "...Ever since you two left the school...I've been sensing her too. I hear her voice. Her heart beat. I can smell her..." He listed off his experiences. "––Like right now it feels like she's close by.. Yano? Like, she's here, with us. I know she's not.. but .. It's like you said in the hall.. It feels _real_."

Lydia's pupils grew wide, and she clamped her mouth shut, trying to grip Stiles' arm whilst Scott was lost in a train of thought. Stiles winced lightly at her grip, trying to keep calm in front of his confused friend.

"Do you think it was the board?" Scott finally looked up. "I mean, do you think it worked? What if it worked? What if Allison is trying to contact me––us!" He quickly corrected himself at the end of his sentence.

"Scott––" Stiles spoke up, stepping forward.

"No, I mean it can't be a coincidence right? Lydia and I _both_ sensing her?" Scott pointed between he and Lydia. "I was coming to talk to Deaton myself about it, hoping maybe if I left the school it would be less.. But, if anything it's stronger here. I literally can feel her."

Over Scott's shoulder, Lydia caught Allison peeking around the corner, very carefully. Lydia shook her head, and Allison shot back behind the brick wall. She re-planted her eyes on Scott, acting as though her shake of the head was just a reaction to what he said.

"What? You don't think so?" Scott asked her.

"I _think_ it's been a really long day.." Lydia looked up. "An emotional day. Our minds could very well just be playing a trick on us. So, I think we should all just go home, get some rest––or try to.. And reconvene in the morning."

Scott eyed Lydia, and then glanced at Stiles, who gave him a look of approval. With both of their confirmations, he dropped his head. "Yeah, you're probably right," Scratching the back of his head he cleared his throat. "Well, I'm gonna go see if Deaton needs me for anything.. Text me if you guys need anything, yeah?"

Both the banshee and the human nodded, their lips twisted and tucked. Scott offered one weak smile, and then he moved passed them to enter the Vet through the back door. Stiles and Lydia both let out a heavy breath, their shoulders slouching as they relaxed. "That was too close.." Stiles breathed.

"It always will be," Lydia began walking towards the corner, "Allison?" She called quietly.

The brunette stepped out from her spot carefully, arms wrapped around herself, and tears in her eyes. Lydia hurried to close the gap between them, placing her hands on the girl's arms. "What's wrong, are you okay?"

Allison parted her lips, her breath trembling as she prepared to speak. "I wasn't ready to see him," She admitted, her voice cracking. "I thought I would be, I thought it wouldn't feel_ different_. The way, it didn't feel different with you, or Stiles.. But with him.. I could feel his pain. I could feel him mourning me, and I just.. I wasn't ready." Tears marked her cheeks, and she shook her head, unable to continue speaking.

Stiles' eyebrows shot up. He'd never seen Allison Argent cry. Well, no actually that wasn't true. He'd seen her cry twice. Once when they blew up Peter in front of her, and the second when the Kanima had her by her throat. Both times, traumatizing for everyone involved. But this was a different kind of cry. This made his heart ache, and he didn't feel that way when it came to most people.

"..I really don't want to interrupt this, because I feel like it needs to happen," Stiles began. "But we gotta go. Scott could come back out at any moment, and we don't want to take our chances again.."

Lydia looked back at him, and then turned back to Allison. "Allison.."

"No, he's right," Allison sniffled, lifting her head and wiping under her eyes roughly. "I don't even know why I was crying, sorry." She licked her lips, and cleared her throat. "We should go." With that she slipped out of Lydia's grasp, and looked to Stiles.

Stiles jumped into action, stepping forward to lead the way. The three walked hurriedly back to his car in complete silence. They all thanked god that the front of the vet didn't have many windows. Once they were all situated, Stiles turned on the radio, Disappear by Mikky Ekko flooding through the speakers. He gripped the wheel, whipping out of the parking spot and heading down the road.

10 minutes into the ride, Stiles' jeep slowed to a stop, and both girls lifted their head up. "What are you doing?" Allison mumbled.

"Welcome to Beacon Burgers, what can I get for you today?" The automatic and familiar voice said through the order box in the drive thru lane.

Lydia slit her eyes, "Seriously, Stiles!? _Now_!?"

"What!?" Stiles shrugged his shoulders. Lydia continued to stare at him, a knowing glare set on her face. "I'm _hungry_!"

Lydia sighed.

"So can I...?" Stiles questioned, trailing off.

"Yes, get your fries!" Lydia waved her hand, looking out the window. Allison smiled weakly from her seat in the back.

"Do you guys want anything?" Stiles glanced back at Allison and Lydia.

"...Do.. Do ghosts, _eat_?" Allison frowned. They all glanced at each other then, none of them knowing the answer.

"Well... Do you feel hungry?" Stiles raised an eyebrow.

Allison paused, thinking in silence. "...I don't think so..."

Stiles whipped around quickly, turning to the window. Because even though they had a million things on their plate, and it was probably the least of their priorities, he needed to eat. Even if the strawberry blonde scowling at him, and the ghost in the back, didn't. "Let me get One Jumbo curly fry special, with a coke, please!"

"Why don't you just get 3 jumbo sized number 19s?" Lydia pointed at the menu.

"Because apparently the special is the equivelant of that, except cheaper!" Stiles looked back at her.

"That's a thing?" Lydia pursed her lips.

"Sure is!" Stiles smirked.

"Huh. You learn something new every day..." Lydia leaned back in her seat as they pulled up to the window.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope the wait was worth it. Sorry this took forever. But I am officially done with high school as of today! I can't believe the day has finally come that I'm done with high school and posting a chapter on here. I've been on here since I was in the 6th grade so it's definitely a strange and bizzare moment. I think this chapter should be posted out of celebration. I hope all of you are doing well. Please give me some feedback if you'd like, and congrats to any of my fellow seniors graduating this year!


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